


Once Upon a Camelot Curse

by cozycatastrophe



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Community: paperlegends, paper legends 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 18:43:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cozycatastrophe/pseuds/cozycatastrophe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A big, big thank you to SuSu (aka wassereis aka http://wassereis.livejournal.com/) for the wonderful art for this Big Bang, including the chapter endings. Check out the wonderful art she did for this piece here: http://wassereis.livejournal.com/161430.html</p></blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big, big thank you to SuSu (aka wassereis aka http://wassereis.livejournal.com/) for the wonderful art for this Big Bang, including the chapter endings. Check out the wonderful art she did for this piece here: http://wassereis.livejournal.com/161430.html

“Enough of this!” Morgana cried, the words echoing off of the granite walls that surrounded her. A growl bubbled up into her throat as she circled a stone basin in the middle of the frigid room. The bowl was filled with clear water but, at the moment, translucent images were dancing just beneath the surface, creating distinct images of a far off room and the people inside it.

Arthur and his court.

Morgana ground her teeth together as the familiar figures silently laughed and socialized, mocking her without even realizing they were.

No. Arthur had to know that Morgana was watching.

It was Uther’s birthday, a date that Morgana wanted to forget. While the King had been alive, the day brought jousting, dancing and a feast. But after his death, Morgana was sure that Arthur and Camelot would be mourning a day that reminded them of their beloved king. Instead, Arthur had thrown a memorial celebration in honor of his dead father.

Her dead father as well, as the case may be.

Morgana didn’t care about her father’s birthday. She would much rather forget all about the man who had tried to destroy her than celebrate the day of his birth. But each sip of wine, shared smile or new couple dancing seemed only to spite her. Rationally, Morgana knew that Arthur was not vindictive enough to celebrate their father’s birthday on the odd chance that she would be watching from some far off place. He was far too stupid for that. But it was just another thing to irk her about her brother ruling Camelot.

And Morgana was tired of it.

That was supposed to be her throne. Her subjects. And like hell would they have been celebrating Uther’s birth if she had been ruler. His death, perhaps, but certainly not his birth.

Arthur and his knights acted as if she were not a threat anymore! Like she could not just storm down to Camelot and destroy the entire kingdom with one sweep of her hand. Not that she had the power to do so right now, but soon she would.

It was going to end. Tonight. The sooner she could get rid of Arthur and any of his supporters, sooner she could take Camelot as her own.

She swept her bulky cloak behind her and stormed from the chamber that held the stone basin, moving into a long hallway that led her into her meager storeroom of potion ingredients.

The run down joke of a castle she was living in smelled of mildew and wet fur. Moss coated the outside almost entirely, making the small keep almost invisible amongst the evergreen pines that surrounded the castle, even during the cold winter months that currently plagued Camelot. But despite the cracks in the walls that allowed the frigid winter wind to howl through and the roof that leaked melted snow into her bedchambers, it was better than a hut in the middle of the forest.

But not much.

Her potion supplies were dwindling and Morgana knew she was going to only have one attempt at the curse she wanted to brew. As she moved amongst the shelves that housed plants, animal carcasses and precious gems, Morgana took quiet stock in what was present. A large leather tome was open on a work bench near the end of the aisle and that was her present target.

Messing up meant not only some nasty side effect like an extra set of eyes in the middle of her forehead, or even death, but it also destroyed most of her options to dethrone Arthur and his future queen. Going into public to collect more ingredients was almost completely out of the question.

She was going to have to make due with what she had.

She clicked her fingers, wishing there was someone else in this dank keep to help her. If she had an ally, she’d be able to send them into the nearest town for more supplies and none of this would be an issue. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen. All of her allies were gone, killed or banished by Arthur and his cohorts. Morgana was on her own and this was going to be one of her last chances to get the whole thing right.

The curse scrawled on the old parchment of the leather bound book in front of her was faded and worn, but Morgana barely needed to look at the words anymore to know what they said. They were etched into her mind ever since she had found the book in the abandoned corners of the disintegrating library that the keep housed. It had been a fortunate find considering how long magic had been outlawed in Camelot and considering the punishment if someone had found the book. Whoever had previously owned the castle she was currently squatting in knew some dark magic and would have most definitely been burned at the stake for the materials they owned.

She had found the book while looking for more supplies than what she had dragged into the stone room that she was currently standing in. There had been no food, obviously, but Morgana knew that ingredients for potions and curses could last for decades without going bad if they were preserved properly in the first place. And while she had only found a few jars of some menial herbs and animal parts, the spell book had been one of the most important discoveries since she had vanished from Camelot.

It would be thing to put her back on the throne.

The large cauldron that sat in the hearth was cold but after a few minutes of fumbling with the flint and wood Morgana had squandered from her last place of residence, it and the rest of the room began to grow warmer. Reflected fire flickered in the surface of the glass jars that Morgana collected from around the room. She barely had to look at the book to remind herself of what she needed. The ingredient list had been something she had obsessed over for days as she scourged her personal stock as well as what was left on the wooden shelves.

“Belladonna…” she mused, clicking her tongue at the obvious absence of the herb when it should have been found amongst the rest of her collection just as easily as common lemongrass. Morgana cursed, the word echoing off of the stone walls that surrounded her, giving off the mere appearance that there were more women present in the keep than just her. It was an eerie feeling and she would be grateful to get out forgotten castle and back into her rightful place on the Camelot throne.

Morgana had to admit that the Pendragon family knew how to keep up a castle. She reluctantly missed her old room with the plush bedding and superficially yearned for the gorgeous clothing that she had been able to wear in her previous life. But soon enough, she’d be able to wear all of that and more. Soon enough, she’d be able to wear the crown on top of her head as well.

Glass clinked against glass as she set down all of the jars that she had been obsessing over onto the worn wooden table where the large spell book lay open and inviting her to take her revenge. That thought as well as the quick memory of Arthur and his queen enjoying their celebrations only fueled Morgana’s rage and she hurried to start the potion that would bring her the fate she deserved.

She was going to have to make a few substitutions, Morgana realized as her eyes scanned the collected items and she noticed a few were missing. That had been a fact from the beginning, but Morgana kept putting it off. But things were going to have to start moving if she ever wanted to put the parties to an end. And the fact that Arthur was celebrating their father’s birthday like that… it was enough to put the plan into action even if it was a tad premature. Morgana didn’t care. The missing belladonna was replaced with a similar ingredient, swapped out from her personal supply and added to the line of materials.

It would work.

It had to.

The woman took a deep breath and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. It had grown so long over the course of her banishment and the growing heat in the stone room was proving that it was far too thick for her comfort. Pale fingers twisted in the dark strands, pulling the bulk away from her sweaty neck and allowing the smallest of breezes to grace the skin there. She wound her hair in a simple knot at the top of her head, tying it with a strip of leather meant just for that. The ends of the strands of hair dangled against her shoulders, tickling them slightly but Morgana ignored the feeling and set about measuring ingredients.

Pinches and precise measurements mingled with one another. Morgana wasn’t sure what a ‘dash’ meant to one potion user compared to her own experiences, but threw in what she thought to be the proper amount. Some of the ingredients had measured quantities and others were abstract, which didn’t make sense, of course, but she followed the nearly memorized instructions as they were scrawled on the paper. The fire was blazing now, flames eating through the meager amount of wood she could scavenge from the surrounding forest near the castle. Ingredients were thrown into the cauldron and as Morgana placed empty bottles back on the wooden table, the realization that this was truly her only chance struck her hard in the chest.

She could not make a single mistake.

And soon, Morgana found herself holding the last of the ingredients over the open mouth of the bubbling cauldron. Her heart beat wickedly in her chest as she slowly tipped the vial over and allowed the spider venom to pour out and into the mixture below. Her breath caught in her throat and she shut her eyes as the yellow liquid hit the boiling surface with a small splash.

She opened her eyes when nothing happened.

A frown slashed itself across her pale face as the cauldron gurgled contently at her. There was no flash of light from the magic, no fog, nothing! She let out a screech that echoed up and down the room, bouncing back and mimicking a clan of banshees. Morgana hurtled the glass vial into the fire, not even flinching as it smashed against the brick hearth and the remaining traces of venom popped in the heat. She whirled, turning her back on the fire and obviously failed potion as she slammed her hands down on the scarred table. Her breath had come back and her chest heaved with the deep lungful of air she took in, attempting to calm herself. But she couldn’t contain her rage at the idea that it had been her last chance and nothing had happened.

Green eyes scanned the list of ingredients. Had she missed something? No. Everything was in the cauldron and she had followed the instructions exactly…

And then she saw it.

In small scribbles near the end of the final paragraph. Morgana instantly felt foolish for missing it, but it had obviously been nearly hidden for a reason. The ink had spidered into the fibers of the paper, but the small words were still legible.

_For those that have combined the above ingredients and still wish to continue this curse, one final material is needed: The lifeblood of the one who yearns for revenge. Simply add to the final concoction and utter the final incantation._

Below the paragraph was another set of scribbled words, instantly recognizable if one knew magic as she did. Morgana stood up straight, her anger still there but now directed at the creator of the potion. Why not put that directly in the directions? Anyone who had gone through the process was bound to want to keep going and not look back, surely. That was the point, was it not?

But she disregarded her loathing for the author and pulled a gleaming dagger from her belt. She turned away from the book and moved to stand over the cauldron, sharp metal held against the pale flesh of her forearm. She pushed the blade into her skin and shivered as a wet, red slash appeared beneath the metal. And soon, the cut began to drip down her arm, threatening to drip into the cauldron. She pressed just a little bit harder on the wound and watched as her blood fell into the concoction, sizzling on contact. Green eyes lit up as Morgana felt the stress, anger and wanting lift from her shoulders. Her lips spread and she formed the almost familiar words of the spell.

_“Áscúfan mín gefýnd ferhþ!”_

The last syllable leapt off of her tongue and into the boiling pot, echoing in the dim room. And before Morgana could doubt her abilities and her need for a new plan of revenge, the hearth exploded in a bright, white light, engulfing Morgana and all that the room contained.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“C’mon, c’mon! You can do better than that! I know a goat that can throw better than you!” The face in the wooden plywood shouted at a man who was standing about fifty feet away from him, throwing rotten tomatoes at the yeller. Another tomato was hurled down the grassy pathway and slammed against the wooden boards, narrowly missing the grinning face. The man being thrown at gave a wicked smirk as he ducked away from the juicy shrapnel. “Nice try, mate! Give the lady another fiver and try again!”

The contestant frowned and shook his head, throwing up a middle finger before stalking away from the smirking faces that had driven him away. The small crowds that had already started congregating around the spectacle laughed at the response and cheered for someone else to go up to the pretty assistant and try their hand at it.

Merlin couldn’t believe that people actually played that game. He stood on the grassy hill overlooking the whole debacle, arms crossed over his chest as he watched another sucker stagger up to the booth and exchange a five-pound note for a handful of squishy tomatoes.

The general public were right idiots sometimes.

He shook his head and started down the hill, giving Gwaine, the man who was currently trading tomatoes for insults, a wave and receiving one back before disappearing through the crowds that milled a bit away from the entertainment.

“Unbelievable, that people would pay to be insulted like that… and for Gwaine to like sitting in that hot box for hours on end, being pelted with tomatoes.” Merlin muttered to himself as he dodged a few people that were merely strolling through the market areas.

“It’s not like they tend to hit him,” a distinctly female voice ventured, making Merlin jump. He turned and looked down to come face to face with another grin, this one belonging to one of his closest friends, Gwen. “And besides, he doesn’t have enough discipline to do anything else. He surely wouldn’t be joining Arthur and his lot jousting.” She nodded in the direction of the jousting arena, where Arthur and his cohorts could be seen on horseback, trotting up and down the length of the fence.

Gwen adjusted her blue dress, gripping the fabric and bringing the hem above her leather shoes as they made their way across the market place. Merlin frowned as he turned his gaze away from the flexing knights that were always attracting the attention of the visitors, and focused on his path. He had to dodge the crowds of attendees that had already begun to show up that morning, although most didn’t give him a second look since he wasn’t dressed like Arthur and his group. Their clothes were always more regal than Merlin’s were. Silks and capes when they weren’t in their armor, glinting metal and clanking weapons when they were getting ready for mock battle and jousting. Merlin always tended to lean towards his wool clothing and a simple scarf to keep his neck from getting sunburned in the summer light. Even Gwen was not outlandishly dressed. Not like the royal party that was cavorting around somewhere else on the grounds. Her own dress was made of wool and other sorts of simple fibers as well.

They never really attracted attention. They looked too much like the other people that milled around the marketplace and the rides and the arena. They were sometimes mistaken for visitors, but their accents were just a little bit more formal than those that came to see them every day and the small details could detach them from the crowds that surged through the front gates every morning at ten o’clock.

They weren’t celebrities like the knights and their leader. Arthur was, for all intents and purposes, the star of the faire. Everyone stopped what they were doing when he and his group of knights flaunted themselves and strode through the grounds, cloaks flapping dramatically in the wind. Arthur drank up the attention and Merlin was pretty sure that was how the blond man thrived.

“Merlin!” Gwen’s voice shook him out of his sulking reverie and Merlin glanced over at his friend, who was standing outside of the game booth they ran together, about ten or so paces behind where he stood now. “What is going on in your head?” He smiled slightly and gave a silent shrug before tracing his steps backwards to the booth.

“Sorry. Thinking about today, is all.”

“Nothing big is planned… what, are you expecting someone to come take you away from me and the booth?” She asked, her tone fake with accusatory inclinations. Gwen shook a finger at him. “I see how it is, Merlin. You want to go play with the knights, is that it? Leave me all by my lonesome to run this whole operation.”

She waved a hand at the group of booths they were standing in front of, each one of them featuring a different game. Those that were feeling lucky could throw knives, darts, shoot arrows or attempt a rather complicated lever system to shoot fake canvas frogs into buckets for a small prize. Gwen and Merlin ran the series of booths, jumping back and forth between them. Sometimes they shared the spaces with a few others, but other times, especially when it was slow, they just kept the peace with the two of them.

It was a nice bit of responsibility that didn’t take too much worrying about. Merlin could watch the crowd, while at the same time doing his job. He never remembered volunteering for the games booths, nor did Gwen, but it had just kind of happened that way. And if he was going to be stuck for hours on end with someone, he was glad it was Gwen at least and not one of the knights.

“No, no! Of course not. I’m just… never mind. It’s stupid. We should be setting up anyway.” He ducked behind one of the wooden counters and began placing the bows at each station of that particular game. The arrows were hidden safely away from out of the reach of anyone who wanted to play that game. Gwen shrugged and moved to another booth, placing the frogs on their particular platforms and getting them ready for their attempts at flight.

A few families were lurking around the game booths, but despite Gwen’s charming smile that attempted to lure them closer, they were not interested in the games at the moment and wandered away to find something a bit more thrilling. Her smile faded and she glanced at Merlin as the boy continued to set up the games they were in charge of.

He couldn’t remember how long he and Gwen had been running these booths, but it had always been that way. They were partners in crime, so to speak, and always relied on one another to keep things running smoothly. Merlin generally ran the booths with the weapons and Gwen attempted to wrangle in the kids who were enthralled with the flying frogs and the popping balloons. That was always how it had been underneath the summer sun, for as long as Merlin could remember.

Straw snapped beneath his feet as he moved back and forth behind the wooden countertop of his booth.

“C’mon, you! You know you want to impress that lady of yours!” Merlin heard Gwen call out and he looked up just in time to see a man flush and the woman hanging on his arm laughing at the challenge.

“Or perhaps a crossbow is a better challenge than merely flinging frogs into buckets!” Merlin cried out, joining the leering. The woman giggled and buried her face into her escort’s arm and the man took the moment to glower at Merlin before ushering his date away from the two booth minders. Merlin let out a quick laugh and looked over at Gwen who had crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head. They were sure signs of her being angry with him, but the smile on her face betrayed all of that.

“You know, every time you do that, I lose a sale,” she scolded, shaking a finger at him once more. But Merlin merely grinned and shrugged at his friend. “Gaius is going to really follow through on that threat of separating us one of these days!”

Merlin brought up his hands and shook them, creating a bit of a draft in the summer heat. “Ooooh no. I’m not scared of that old buffoon anyway. What’s he going to do, send me off to serve food? He knows I’m the reason people come around to these booths as it is.”

Gwen let out a bark of laughter and shook her head. “You’re the one that brings in the customers? I’m pretty sure I’m the one that does that.”

“Yeah, only because of your ti--” But Merlin broke off at the sound of a throat clearing behind him. His teasing smile dropped from his face, but he could see Gwen’s grin only growing wider.

“Hi, Gaius,” she greeted before going back to work. Merlin’s stomach sank and he slowly turned to find the old man staring at him with a glare that could both freeze Merlin’s insides and melt him into a puddle of flesh and gore at the same time.

“Oh… Gaius… sorry… didn’t hear you come up…”

The old man tapped his foot in the dirt and shook his head as he came around the counter.

“You don’t hear a lot of things, Merlin, which is what is going to get you into trouble one of these days,” Gaius warned him, shaking a finger at him. It seemed to be a common theme that morning and Merlin couldn’t help rolling his eyes and praying that Gaius hadn’t seen the motion.

“I can’t help it, Gaius. No one spends time at the game booths like they used to. The frog game is boring for children and no one wants to play with these pitiful things you call crossbows,” Merlin turned, following Gaius as he waved a hand at the wooden weapons that were settled on the counter behind him. Each crossbow was tied to the counter so no one could make off with it, but it wouldn’t do much damage. It was made of wood and not nearly as lethal as something a real hunter would carry.

They were all for show as it was.

“Maybe I should send you off somewhere else where you might not be so bored!” Gaius crowed, turning on his assistant with a flash in his eyes that made Merlin take a step back. Gaius never really raised his voice at his employees and really found them more entertaining than anything else. But it was entirely possible that Merlin had finally struck that nerve.

Whoops.

He put up his hands in surrender, an uneasy smile gracing his face. “C’mon, Gaius… don’t be that way… you know I like working for you. Working here with Gwen and everything.”

But Gaius shook his head and struck out with his hand. Merlin first thought he was attempting to hit him, but then saw the pointing finger that signaled the boy should leave. “Go take a walk, Merlin. Get out of my sight for a few hours.”

“Gaius!” Merlin cried, but was silenced once more by another shake of the old man’s head. The boy looked helplessly at Gwen, who could only shrug her shoulders and look down at her frogs. Merlin frowned, feeling the heat surfacing in his cheeks.

“Fine. Have it your way,” He spat before ducking around the wooden countertop and back into the crowds of the faire. The faint voices of Gwen and Gaius could be barely heard under the chatter of the faire attendants. Gwen was surely pleading with their boss to give Merlin another chance and Gaius would eventually buckle. But Merlin didn’t want that right now as he strode off, kicking rocks that had decided to stubbornly be in his way.

He glared at the ground, barely noticing the people that were milling around him. It was only when he slammed into a rather solid form that Merlin started paying attention to his surroundings. His breath was pushed from his chest and Merlin stumbled backwards, catching himself before he could trip over any number of obstacles that would want to put him on his back.

“Hey! Watch where you--” But, yet again, his words were pulled from his lips as he realized who he was talking to. A man dressed as a Queen’s guard held a poleaxe out in front of him, blocking the way just like the other men who were dressed like him. He glared at Merlin and silently dared the boy to continue his threat.

“Your Queen approaches! Pay your respect!” The guard barked and Merlin knew better than to disobey in fear of getting in further trouble with Gaius, at least. The whole charade was stupid, but if he wanted to keep his job, he was going to have to play along. And soon enough, the spectacle was passing.

Lords and ladies dressed with the intricacies of royalty passed slowly through the dusty streets. Their laughter was musical, although Merlin could tell they were sweating through all those layers. They barely glanced at the commoners that were surrounding them on both sides as guards led them down towards the jousting fields.

And then it was the Queen’s turn.

Merlin knew he was supposed to keep his gaze on his feet, even kneel before her since he was one of her subjects. But he couldn’t bring his stubborn streak to an end and remained standing despite the glare from the guard he had collided with earlier.

She passed, clad in a deep green dress that bellowed out so much that it allowed her a bit of personal space from her escorts. Her snow white skin unblemished from the sun, mainly due to the parasol that someone held over her head, allowing a shadow to cross over her face. But Merlin caught the flash of green eyes beneath long lashes and, for some reason, his stomach lurched. He had no idea why and the feeling was gone as soon as it had come, with the passing of the Queen and her escorts.

The crowds began to disperse as the guards turned to follow their queen. The one that Merlin had run into turned on his heel to depart with the rest of the garrison, and as he did so, slammed an armored shoulder into Merlin, nearly sending the scrawny boy sprawling into the dirt. Merlin managed to scramble back and keep his balance, but just barely, glaring at the now smirking guard as the company vanished down the hill.

“Stupid…” Merlin grumbled as he brushed a few wrinkles from his clothes. But there was nowhere to go from there. None of the attractions of the faire entertained him much anymore and since Gaius had all but kicked him out of the booth for the day, he couldn’t go back there. All of the comedy shows had lost their charm and even the trio that tumbled and used one another as counterweights had stopped being entertaining after Merlin had watched their act for about the fifth time. Just meandering around aimlessly was no fun, but he had already watched Gwaine take a few tomatoes to the face that morning.

What else could he do?

Blue eyes followed the group that was heading down to the jousting arena and Merlin groaned. Was it the only thing to do around here? Well, he would at least be able to kill a few hours and return to the booth, hopefully to a calmer Gaius. At least, Merlin could hope. And it wasn’t like he needed to actually pay attention to the festivities, although it was nice that it was one of the few things he wasn’t actually a part of and could watch without having to do much. So he stuck his hands in his pockets and headed down the muddy hill, following the groups of visitors as they all attempted to find seats next to the arena.

 


	3. Once Upon a Camelot Curse - Chapter Three

That was far too close.

Morgana knew that her group of guards and courtiers would keep most of the people she knew at bay. No one that personally knew her had managed to get a seat of power during the faire, which was some thing of a blessing. She always had an entourage that kept both the visitors and anyone who might actually know her a safe distance away.

She couldn’t have anyone getting their memories jogged, that much was for sure.

And it wasn’t like she didn’t see them around the grounds. Gwen and Merlin had ended up running a booth together, after all. But her magic had at least managed to keep Arthur and his queen separated, which was a sweet reward for the trouble Morgana had gone through after her curse had gone a bit awry.

This wasn’t what she had planned. The curse was supposed to get rid of Arthur and his inner circle, plus the group of knights that were loyal to him and at his disposal. Anyone who would fight to keep Arthur Pendragon on the throne no matter if he had merely vanished or was killed had to be removed for her to be able to return to power.

It had worked.

For the most part.

The guard’s calls to make way for the queen drifted back to Morgana and she couldn’t help smiling at the sound. Of course, she wasn’t really queen. Not of Camelot, anyway, although forcing Arthur to become merely a knight with no memory of who he truly was would have been second best choice besides banishing him and his cohorts to places unknown. And she could pretend.

They all treated her like a queen as it was.

She probably could have gotten them to carry her in a pavilion, up on their shoulders or something like that. But Morgana wasn’t going to push it. This wasn’t exactly what she had planned when she had pulled the dagger across her arm. She had imagined walking into Camelot and seeing no guards and no Arthur. She’d be able to waltz right into the castle that was rightfully hers and take the throne with no problems. She’d appoint her own loyal knights and guards and rule Camelot the way she was originally supposed to.

This was a farce compared to what Morgana had promised herself. What the potion had promised her. And she had to fight the contempt that flickered on her lips each time she looked at her “subjects” that surrounded her. Sure, her doting party was all but real. They all assumed they were playing a role. And Morgana recognized some of the faces as the curse had rearranged some of the parts each villager had originally played in Camelot. It was a bit of a delight to see Gaius and Guinevere running menial game booths, dressed in clothing fit for the social status that Gwen had first started in and should have stayed in.

But it wasn’t like ruling Camelot in the slightest. And she still had no idea how she had gotten to the faire grounds in the first place, despite adapting quickly to her arrival.

_“Are you nearly ready, my queen?” A young woman who was leaning into the tent questioned with a quiet voice. When there was no answer, she entered, allowing the fabric to close behind her, blocking out the harsh summer sun and the chattering of guests outside of the tent. She approached the woman she was addressing, reaching out and tapping on her shoulder._

_Morgana started, holding back a shriek as she whirled around and focused on the young woman, who also jumped away, holding her hand to her chest as if Morgana had burned her. Instantly, Morgana was on guard, her hand reaching toward her belt for a dagger, but instead of a hilt, her fingers curled around luxurious fabric that bellowed out from her waist. It was nothing like the raggedy dress she had been wearing only moments before._

_“Are you alright, your majesty?” The young woman, who Morgana noticed had calmed and was running a hand through her blond hair, attempting to regain her composure. It was no one that Morgana recognized from the castle, but she was also wondering why she was calling her queen and majesty._

_At least until Morgana turned and caught sight of a glint of gold on top of her dark curls. Her green eyes instantly flicked up and saw, in a mirror that had been behind her, a crown balanced on her head. Slowly, she reached up and touched the metal, half expecting it to vanish like a newly realized dream. But it was solid when her fingertips connected with the gold and Morgana’s breath caught in her throat. Beneath the crown, her hair was smooth and soft like it had been when she had lived in the castle in Camelot. Her cheekbones were softened, unlike her sharp features after months of living on the run and off the land. Her body had filled out as well and was clad in one of the most extravagantly gorgeous emerald dresses she had ever seen._

_“My queen…?” The woman started once more and Morgana had to tear her eyes away from herself in the mirror. What had happened with the potion? She could have easily blacked out from the explosion, but it surely would not have made her forget the rest of her plan. She should have still been in the forest in that forgotten keep. There was no way she could block out leaving and traveling to Camelot and taking the throne, if that was what she had done…_

_Maybe the curse had escalated her plans._

_A slow smile slipped onto Morgana’s lips as she turned to her attendant. She could be queen, if it was that quick. Obviously she would have to make plans to change her small group like Arthur had, but that wouldn’t be an issue. She wouldn’t be queen if his allies were still anywhere close to being in the castle or in Camelot, so that wouldn’t matter._

_“Of course, I am alright. Let us proceed with the day, shall we?” Morgana could be queen. She’d have to learn along the way, but it wasn’t as if she didn’t know Camelot and how it was supposed to be ruled. And that’s what she thought as the blond woman led her out of the tent and into the sun._

_As Morgana’s eyes adjusted to the bright light, that smile on her face flickered and died. People milled around her, and while the guard, dressed in green instead of Pendragon red, knelt and showed respect to her, Morgana barely recognized the subjects that had watched her emerge. Some were dressed peculiarly, with pants that barely reached their knees and shoes that did not cover their toes. Women were similarly dressed, which was even odder and every few people were pointing strange contraptions at her as they waved and smiled and cheered._

_She looked at her surroundings, catching sight of the squat buildings around her. Large trees grew up through the dirt road that snaked between those buildings and shed shadows amongst the rays of sunlight. It was all so normal looking._

_But it was not Camelot._

_Morgana’s heart began to race but with all the people, strangely dressed or no, looking at her, she wasn’t sure what to do. Running away as fast as possible was an option or she could attempt a transportation spell. The words were familiar in her ears._ "Bedyrne ús. Astýre ús þanonweard," _she muttered under her breath, expecting a cloud of smoke to rise up and take her anywhere but here._

_But she was stuck._

_With no magic._

_A feeling of powerlessness swept over her, despite the crowds watching. She needed to get out of here, before anyone realized who she truly was. She had to figure out where she was and make sure she could get back home. Before she could shove someone out of the way, however, the blonde that had led her out of the tent leaned over._

_“Relax, Morgana. You’re freaking out the Normals. C’mon, you can do this. Not like you haven’t been doing this since the start of the season or anything. Get your act together,” she whispered hurriedly in Morgan’s ear before moving away. Morgana shot the woman a look and merely received an encouraging smile in return. The Normals? What did that mean?_

_Did it matter?_

_A slow look around at the group of people that surrounded her, and Morgana realized she was in a position of power. These people served her, at least from what she could tell. And so the smile slid back onto her lips as if nothing had even worried her._

_“Let us proceed!” She called out, extending an arm to articulate the command and what seemed to be her personal guard rose and fell around her as she moved away from the tent and onto the grounds of what was apparently her new kingdom._

After that, it had been all about discovering what realm she had landed herself in and what was going on around her.  She had quickly learned that the “Normals” that her attendant had talked about were tourists visiting the village. And the village was constantly hosting a faire that these tourists sometimes tried to blend in and dress as her subjects and some didn’t even bother, coming in what was apparently regular clothing. They were allowed to come and go as they pleased, paying a fee to enter the village and enjoy the festivities that went on around them.

Morgana and her subjects, however, were a different story when it came to leaving the grounds.

_The day had proceeded as apparently each day had before it. Morgana stayed quiet and her subjects seemed to deem that as normal for her as the escorted her around the village. Each hut held a storefront filled with crafts and goods for sale, or they were a front for games of skill or even for food. It was not very large, Morgana noticed, the entire set of grounds probably cascading over about six or seven acres of land. Everyone seemed relatively happy and much to her pleasure, happy to see her._

_Guards called out her approach and separated the crowds for her. And her subjects, both dressed oddly and familiarly, cheered as she passed by. It filled Morgana up with a feeling that she hadn’t experienced in quite some time._

_Happiness._

_So she smiled and waved and allowed herself to be paraded around the grounds that she apparently ruled over. Each step showed something new and it was revealed that this was all merely an act. It wasn’t obvious, at first, to Morgana as the costumes were like anything that she could have pulled from her closet in her room in the castle back home. And everyone acted just like those in Camelot, at least for the most part, although possibly a bit exaggerated compared to the real thing. But she caught sight of lines of “Normals” paying what looked to be money to enter the main gates, all holding strange machines that Morgana couldn’t imagine understanding._

_The entire day was dedicated to her, however, and that was distraction enough from the creeping feeling of panic that threatened to engulf her. It had been far too long since Morgana had been able to interact with anyone, let alone people that wanted to adore and serve her._

_So she let it happen._

_Passing by a set of game booths, she instantly recognized three of the workers and her blood ran cold. Merlin, Gwen and Gaius were all running the games behind wooden counters. But none of them seemed to think that was out of the ordinary and were moving around in the displays as if they had been working them for years. There was no look of panic in their eyes as she and her group passed, but they merely looked at her as if they had seen her every day, for just as long as they had run those games._

_“It is time for the first jousting tournament, my queen,” the blonde attendant whispered as the group began heading down towards what looked like a rather large arena. People were milling around the edges and Morgana was led to a great fixture with a fabric tent that hid her from the sun and allowed her a cushioned view of the entire sport._

_Amazing._

_As the knights who were to perform for her filed out from hidden barracks, all on horseback, Morgana recognized a familiar blond head and her heart began to pound. Arthur. Arthur, surrounded by the majority of his knights and they were all armed with poles and other tournament weapons. But as they paraded around the arena and finally came to a stop in front of her, none of the men, Arthur included, seemed wrathful as they bowed. The announcer hosting the entire thing, who she recognized later was Gwaine, introduced each knight and the loudest cheers were for Arthur, who gave that charming smile and waved to his fans. But none of them leaped over the barricades and attempted to drive their swords into her chest._

_None of them knew about anything she had done._

_And with that realization, Morgana had settled into her seat and proceeded to watch the games being held in her favor._

_Soon after the last jousting tournament and the final fire eating performance, visitors began trickling out of the faire grounds and Morgana felt the absolute need to follow them. Her attendees had brought her back to her tent instead and then left her to her own devices. It was so odd… if this place was a tourist attraction, surely those that worked there left, right? But as she stuck her head out of her tent, no one but tourists were leaving the grounds and soon enough the large gates were slammed shut._

_Interesting._

_Morgana slipped back into her tent and began slowly pacing the dirt floor. If they could leave… she knew she had to get out of there. If she had managed to banish Arthur and his allies, she could just as easily continue with her plan, right? It would just be as simple as slipping out of the faire grounds and finding her way back to Camelot, leaving Arthur to continue playing knight to some other doting queen._

_Singing crickets alerted Morgana to the fact that night had finally fallen and as she looked out of her tent, she saw the large doors were unattended. No one else seemed to be around and she had to wonder where everyone else had gone as she left her tent and sneaked through the dark shadows beneath the glowing moon. Morgana had filled her waiting hour by finding a simpler outfit in the trunk that was filled with costumes that fit her perfectly. A traveling cloak covered a very simple black dress. It was all she would need until she could find a way to get back to Camelot and hopefully get her magic back._

_Gravel and dirt crunched beneath her shoes as she skittered across the grounds towards the large doors that guarded the entrance. She reached out and pulled at a large ring, nearly expecting the doors to be locked. But with a surprised yank, the door lurched open and it took quite a lot of effort not to let out a cry of glee. She would get out of this façade and find her true kingdom._

_Morgana moved through the doorway and slammed face first into an invisible barrier, nearly knocking herself unconscious and most definitely on her rear end as she stumbled back and fell over. She had to stifle another cry, this time out of surprise and pain and glared through the door. Rocks skittered as she scrambled to her feet and, this time more carefully, reached out. Her fingers bumped up against the barrier once more and the whole thing gave a slightly angry buzz, like a hive filled with irritated hornets._

_Magic._

_How the tourists had left, Morgana had no idea, but this was surely not the way she was going to get off of the faire grounds. She gave a low curse before closing the large door and moving back into her tent for the night._

The following morning had not given much in the way of information, unfortunately, except for the fact that Morgana learned about her other prisoners. All those that worked in the faire were Camelot citizens, she knew that much after a few days of walking the grounds with her escorts. But none of them left after the gates were shut and it seemed that only she noticed the passing of time between the doors closing at night and opening the following morning. And it did not seem odd to anyone else either. No one knew what had happened to them, and seemed completely content with living their lives out in the façade that Morgana had created. None of them had the urge to get back home, nor did they even have a memory of a back home.

Morgana, on the other hand, knew she had to get back to Camelot.

She smiled sweetly at the passing subjects as they waved and cheered for her, imagining that it was all real. It wasn’t. But it was nice to pretend when her efforts to leave were all but destroyed. Every day she had to attend at least one jousting tournament, and this was today’s trip down to the arena. It was all thrown in her honor, of course, as was the entire faire and it was wonderful to be the center of attention, no matter how untrue it was.

But it was difficult getting back home when she didn’t have magic. She couldn’t figure out why and it had been weeks since she had bled into the cauldron. Morgan had tried desperately, but there was nothing magical in this world filled with strange machines that her visiting subjects talked into, supposed to someone else who had a similar machine. The visiting subjects were merely customers who came to the faire to be entertained and pretend that they were part of the world that Morgana had come from.

There was no magic in this world of technology and it irritated Morgana day after day. The only thing that put a true smile on her face was watching her enemies toil and entertain both her and the tourists that milled around them. Arthur and his beloved queen never spoke and he seemed to barely notice that she even existed, just as it had been before Merlin had made Morgana’s life hell. Even Merlin and Arthur were practical strangers and Morgana made sure that they all stayed separated from one another as much as possible.

The worst part was that there was no magic here, except for the invisible barrier that surrounded the grounds. The tourists seemed to have no problem coming and going once they paid the original entrance fee. And all of the Camelot citizens seemed content on staying trapped behind the high wooden walls. Morgana appeared to be the only one who yearned to leave, or even notice the magical wall beyond the gates.

She also seemed to be the only one to notice the passing of night and day.

_The thought hadn’t occurred to her until a few days had passed in her new world. Her blonde attendant had originally been a girl who was the daughter of one of Camelot’s millers. Morgana barely remembered her from Camelot, but that wasn’t surprising considering how little time she had spent in the surrounding village when she had lived peacefully in the castle. The miller’s daughter was named Juliana and while she was attentive to Morgana’s every need, she wasn’t all that bright, tending to merely nod and smile when Morgana tried to strike up a conversation. And despite it all being a farce, Juliana seemed nearly intimidated by Morgana, and Morgana wasn’t sure if it was an act or if Juliana truly was scared of her._

_Most of the personal guards that surrounded her at all times in public were not Arthur’s men from Camelot (they were all mere hedge knights who seemed to only want to joust during the day), but strong men Morgana dimly recognized from the village that surrounded the castle. The fact that none of them knew her actual identity was refreshing. Her name wasn’t spoken with malice, disgust or even fear, but respect and an even slightly friendly air._

_There was, however, one special guard she kept by her side at all times. He had briefly frightened her during his first appearance in her escort party. She had stared at him, wondering if he knew exactly who she was. But Lancelot merely stared at her with an innocent smile, waiting on her orders._

_On the third day after Morgana’s arrival, she had already quickly learned how the curse worked, at least to a point. Everyone had been given a new life. They played their roles as actors to entertain the crowds that paid money to be taken back to an era that was foreign to them. The citizens of Camelot didn’t blink an eyelid at the machines the tourists brought out, or if they did, it was in jest and they joked about the tourist being a time traveler or magician. Morgana had to wonder if they subconsciously believed that, knowing that the contraptions the tourists brought in were nothing short of amazing and nothing like anything they had back home. No one else but her seemed to remember their lives in Camelot, or their previous relationships. Arthur and Gwen didn’t even speak to one another as far as Morgana could tell._

_But there was something that she had overlooked in her attempted to circumvent the magical barrier. The tourists were seen leaving each night, but none of the citizens of the faire left through the same gates. And if they were restrained like Morgana was, how was it that none of them seemed to panic?_

_“Juliana,” Morgana murmured, leaning over to her pretty attendant as they started off on the first stroll of the day through the faire. The blonde blinked and looked at Morgana, as if she were surprised that her queen was speaking directly to her._

_“Yes, my queen?” She whispered back, almost hesitant to answer._

_“What is it that you do after you leave my company each day?” The look of surprised turned to confusion, as if Morgana had asked her to calculate the distance from Earth to the nearest star._

_“My Queen, I am yours from the moment you wake to the minute your head finds home on your pillow. There is nothing outside of those hours,” she replied, her vapid look almost sincere enough that Morgana nearly believed her. Was it possible that this was all a dream? Had Morgana created her own illusion? Were all these people merely figments of her imagination conjured up by the curse, and only existed when she was supposedly awake? Did she only rule this fake kingdom in her head and was still actually lying on the cold stone floor of that abandoned keep? Or was this some sort of afterlife, heaven or possibly even hell?_

_If her mind had come up with this world, Morgana hoped that it would have at least tried to give her a real kingdom to rule, not just a six-acre tourist attraction. The paranoia and panic vanished and Morgana attempted to switch tactics. Adapting to this world hadn’t been difficult so far since they all pretended to be from a time era similar to Camelot. But if Morgana was going to get any sort of information out of Juliana, she would have to force herself to adapt to their world._

_Of course the idiot insisted on acting out her persona for the public, playing dumb and presenting her character as someone completely committed to her queen. So Morgana lowered her voice and gestured for Juliana to lean in, as if Morgana was going to reveal some court gossip or something equally shallow._

_“No, no, my dear. What do you really do after hours? Once…” She waved a gloved hand at the passing ‘Normals’ who gawked at the passing display of royalty. “Once they all pass through the gates and go home? Surely you go home as well? Visit your own beloved or family, right?”_

_And then it was like the clouds had parted and the sun had come out. Juliana’s face brightened with understanding that Morgana wasn’t acting like the queen, but as a genuinely interested… well… friend. But it was only for a moment as Juliana’s face clouded over, as if she couldn’t quite remember what she was attempting to say._

_“Oh of course,” Juliana replied after a moment. “I do see my friends and family after being finished here.” She smiled brightly, as if it was the best conversation she had ever had, and it was the most helpful answer ever. Juliana’s words had come out as if she had been reciting a memorized poem or script. Morgana desperately wanted to reach over, grab the idiot by the back of the neck and shove her into the path of the nearest passing horse._

_Her answer was odd, not only in the recitation feel that it had given off. It was almost like the curse had forced her to give Morgana a real answer as opposed to being confused in the realization that she didn’t actually leave the faire grounds._ _So Morgana had allowed Juliana to go about her daily duties as if they were truly in Camelot and Morgana was truly her queen. It was the only way to keep her from dropping to her knees in the middle of the dirt path and giving up entirely on the whole thing._

Morgana had yet to see any of her fellow “employees” disappear beyond the gates, which meant they were just as trapped as she was.

The arena grew closer and Morgana allowed her green-eyed gaze to scan over the crowds that had begun to gather for the festivities. The populace had grown nearly anonymous to Morgana over the course of the few weeks she had ruled this place. The few she recognized from Camelot’s castle had struck her, and of course she had kept her eyes open for familiar faces of those who were her sworn enemies. Every so often, someone who would address her as their queen would strike a memory in her mind like a hot coal and their face from Camelot would surge forth in her head. Then, after the interaction was over, they’d fade back into the black. Not many of these people mattered, just as they hadn’t truly mattered in Camelot. Most of them were merely fodder for the war and cattle that she would someday herd to her liking as she ruled over them.

That was one of the few things that had stayed the same as she had traveled from one world to the next.

A trumpeting of horns announced her presence and the crowds she had been so carefully watching lurched to their feet and cheered her arrival. Morgana smiled, lifting a hand to slowly wave to her subjects. It was quite easy to pretend this was all real, and on the days that there seemed to be no hope of returning to Camelot, Morgana did just that. Today was different, however. Seeing Merlin as she had passed on her way down to the arena had shaken the veil she liked to hide behind. There was no pretending that this was real when she spotted Merlin, Arthur, Gwen or even Gaius. Even Arthur’s pet dogs that used to be so gallant in their sweeping red cloaks sent flashes of memories reeling through Morgana’s mind and she was reminded of where she was exactly and how desperately she wanted to get back to Camelot without them all.

Although it was easy to forget about it all when you were being worshipped as queen, Morgana couldn’t deny that.

Juliana and the rest of the escorts led Morgana down a well trodden path and up the worn wooden steps to their seats beneath a covered pavilion. The fabric above their heads rippled green and black as it was rocked back and forth in the summer winds that blew through the small valley they were sitting in.

The chair waiting for her was much more ornate than anything else she had sat in, including the throne that awaited her in Camelot. Morgana had always found the chair at the head of the table where Uther had perched and rained down his judgments had always been a bit plain for someone of his standing. But even this giant oak monstrosity was a bit too theatrical and ornate for Morgana’s tastes. It was one large piece, supposedly carved from a single ancient tree. Whoever had constructed it had sanded and polished it until the wood shined and the grains that ran through the arms and backing were large, dark scars that complimented the lighter wood that surrounded them. Knots and ropes scaled the arms of the chair, allowing for something to hold onto at the ends of each armrest and the back of the chair flowered into a large tangle of branches above her head.

It was a rather astounding piece, Morgana couldn’t deny that, not matter how outlandish it was for royalty. And she settled happily onto the green velvet cushion that had been placed in the throne’s seat just for her. Just as she perched, leaning back into the wooden enclosure of the chair that almost seemed to wrap around her, the trumpets sang their last trills before going quiet. Morgana crossed one leg over the other, allowing for a bit of the breeze to run up her legs. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Lancelot settle in his spot, standing just to the side of her throne, keeping her company while also looking out for danger. It was nice to have a familiar man like Lancelot be her puppet once more.

The crowds roared around them as a man strode out to the middle of the arena, shaking a bit of tomato out of his hair. Morgana rolled her eyes, although when she had first seen Gwaine shackled up by wrist and neck and having tomatoes thrown at his face, she hadn’t been surprised. And the surprise hadn’t increased when she realized he was the one who would lead the ceremonies for the daily jousting tournaments.

He certainly was charismatic, loud and cocky enough for both roles in the faire.

A wide smile crossed his face and settled as he spun and took in the energy from the crowds that looked all too pleased to see him.

Of course it would be him. Morgana hadn’t met anyone nearly as outlandish as Gwaine. And while he was certainly no public speaker or leader, the crowds –the women especially—seemed to take to him and his wickedly charming smile. The people in the stands crowed and screamed at his presence. He spun slowly, arms outstretched as he strode towards the barriers that separated the two lanes that the horses would rocket down in a few moments.

Morgana had to admit that he had a certain spark.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the day’s jousting tournament!” His voice was loud and jovial, as if this was what he had been waiting for all day to perform. And perhaps he had. Morgana had found him appropriate for throwing tomatoes at and trading insults with those that paid for the rotten vegetables, but Gwaine thrived at being able to feed off of the energy that the crowd gave him. The Gwaine back in Camelot had thrived in local taverns, creating a stir sometimes when things got boring, and this was surely the closest thing to that adrenaline rush that fighting allowed.

He sure did shine in the afternoon sun.

The tourist roared and Gwaine gleamed at the response to his greeting. He spun slowly, taking in all sides of the arena and the hundreds of screaming mouths that wanted him to keep talking. His rotation, however, finally settled on Morgana and her royal court in their shaded pavilion. Her green eyes met his brown ones and for a moment Morgana feared he recognized her. With a personality like Gwaine’s he could shatter everything. But instead of shouting out her true identity and ruining everything, he merely bowed low from the waist, showing respect to his queen and her subjects. At the act, the people he had so easily worked up into a frenzy quieted to hear his speech. Morgana knew what was to come. It was the same script every day. However, with Gwaine’s energy and spark, he never repeated it as if he had merely memorized words on a page. It was always as if he was living his part for real, as if they were back in Camelot.

 _He would have made a wonderful captain of my guard in Camelot_ , Morgana thought, remembering their past encounters and how strong of a soldier he truly had been. And there had been brief moments where she thought she had been able to bring him to her side instead of Arthur’s… but unfortunately, Morgana knew he would always be one of Arthur’s men, at least in Camelot.

“My queen! This tournament of strength and will is in your honor!” His voice boomed over the quiet that had engulfed the jousting area. “Please allow me to present the knights that compete to become your champion!”

Morgana bowed a head, giving him fake permission. The parade of knights and horses and pages would have continued with or without her participation in the charade. But she liked to indulge it every once in a while. It was easy to lose herself in the games that these people played in this world and become the queen, and the jousting tournament was one of the times when it was nearly impossible not to participate.

Gwaine bowed his own head in reply and turned to face the patient tourists. “Lords and ladies, I present the competing champions!” When he raised his arms, the cheers began and the volume lifted, sending a wave of sound and energy across Morgana that made a smile flicker onto her lips. It was soft, and anyone who knew her as queen knew she didn’t smile often, but it was there nonetheless.

If she could not have adoring subjects in Camelot, she could not deny that this was the next best thing, even if it was all a farce.

Her leader of the tournament turned and pointed to the large gates that led to the horse stables. Men astride large steeds trotted out, their banners flying high on the poles that were toted by doting pages and stable boys. Each flag was a different color, supposed to be representing their respective country or piece of land that existed outside of the faire.

At her first jousting, Morgana had watched carefully, wanting to know who was to become her champion. Many of the men on the horses were familiar only by face, having been members of the king’s guard in Camelot but no one she personally had interacted with and no one of notice. And then the final knight trotted out and the crowds had exploded into a chaos that Morgana had only heard when Arthur had entered a combat ring, ready to fight for his kingdom.

How ironic it was when he was the one astride the large white stallion that had come trotting out of the gates that day. Surrounding him were most of his so called inner circle, although Lancelot as well as Gwaine were missing, as Gwaine obviously was the court jester of sorts in this world. Merlin, Arthur’s lap dog of a servant, and Guinevere were also not present, but Morgana had found them later in the day.

Arthur had apparently won the love of the tourists and was the crowd favorite to win each tournament. Over the days and numerous jousts, their love and shouting never waned and he glowed in their admiration.

It grated on Morgana’s nerves.

She wished for Arthur to lose each tournament, and while he was a strong favorite, he did sometimes topple from his horse without striking his opponent or gaining any points, much to Morgana’s pleasure. He was good, but not good enough to be an undefeated champion.

Today, the crowds were just as adoring and she didn’t bother watching the knights as closely as she used to while they paraded into the arena, circling the outside boundaries and passing in front of her pavilion. Each of the faces was now familiar to her as they replayed their parts over and over each day. But as Arthur and his entourage passed in front of her, a bolt of shock struck Morgana, ricocheting down her spine and forcing her to sit up straighter and for her heart to pound in her chest. One of the faces, albeit not a happy one, was beside Arthur, carrying the pole that had a golden lion rippling and roaring on scarlet fabric atop it.

Merlin.

 


	4. Once Upon a Camelot Curse - Chapter Four

The convoy of the queen’s party had passed by and the tourists had moved with her, leaving Merlin to stand in the clearing by himself, occasionally jostled by a guest who wasn’t paying attention to anything but the shops that surrounded them. Merlin watched the shrinking group of royals as they made their way down to the arena and attempted to shake the chill that had rippled down his spine when he had caught the queen’s gaze.

He had never really liked Morgana. Not that he had much personal interaction with the dear queen or anything like that. She never spoke to anyone but her attendants and Merlin kept mostly to himself and Gwen, sometimes Gaius for company, or, if he was truly desperate, he’d joke around with Gwaine when the man wasn’t getting tomatoes thrown in his face. But there was something about the queen that just made Merlin uncomfortable, like there was something pulsing beneath his skin that awoke only when she was around.

It was odd to say the least.

But the feeling filtered away as Queen Morgana drifted off to be honored in the daily jousting tournament. He shrugged a single shoulder, attempting to bump off the rest of the creepy feeling left beneath his skin and turned to head towards Gwaine’s booth, forgetting that the man who used his loud voice to insult tourists and goad them into throwing rotten food at him was also the one who used his loud voice to rile up those same tourists into rooting for their favorite knights.

As he turned, Merlin barely got one step before the wind was knocked out of him and he was nearly pushed off of his feet with the force of running straight into a brick wall.

“Ow!” He cried out, stumbling back and holding his nose, which had gotten the brunt of the impact. Merlin’s eyes watered as he looked up and could only see a glittering gold lion romping on a field of scarlet fabric. His gaze traveled upwards and finally settled on the light smirk of one of Arthur’s cohorts, a knight named Sir Leon.

“Easy there, my boy, wouldn’t want to have you bumping into one of our guests, now would we?” Leon had a slight smirk on his lips, although that was generally unusual considering his serious demeanor. Merlin glowered as he rubbed at his nose and attempted to stand up a bit straighter, forcing the height difference to become not so drastic between him and the knight.

“Sir Leon, I’d expect you to be down at the arena, preparing for the tournament,” Merlin replied, attempting to keep any sort of contempt or attitude out of his words. When they weren’t jousting, Arthur and his knights liked parading around the faire grounds. One of their favorite spots besides the food stalls was the gaming area where they could impress the tourists with their precise aim and ability to collect numerous prizes. Leon was one of the few knights that respected the rules as well as those that ran the booths. He seemed to watch over the younger men more than anything else, only trying his hand at the games when he was goaded into it.

It wasn’t that he was a bad man or anything, but he still hung out with that pompous ass Arthur, and by association, that made him a bit of an ass himself.

Leon nodded. “I am on my way down there now. Unfortunately, we are short a page today. Poor boy got kicked in the knee by one of the horses and is out for the day.”

Merlin didn’t like the sound of Leon’s tone one bit, nor the implications of his words. He didn’t particularly like horses and was grateful for his job working the game booths. The biggest threat was wayward blunt arrows or flying stuffed frogs soaring through the air. Those things couldn’t injure you like a horse could, nor did you have to constantly deal with Arthur’s pigheadedness.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Sir Leon,” Merlin replied, making sure to use Leon’s title, especially around the tourists. To anyone else, it would seem like a regular, staged conversation. Just passing folk who were talking to one another. But Merlin couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in his stomach. “That’s hard, having to lose a teammate, especially before a big event like that. If I could help--”

Merlin was cut off as Leon let out a cry of what could only be gratitude and slapped a palm down on Merlin’s shoulder, nearly causing the boy’s knees to buckle in the process.

“And that’s when I went to the games booth to talk to you and Gaius! I know how well you work and take direction, and you get along well enough with the other men from what I can see! I really appreciate you offering to help us out in our time of need, Merlin!” Leon crowed and gave the boy a large smile and instantly Merlin realized what the knight truly wanted.

“Oh no,” Merlin shook his head and attempted to duck out from beneath Leon’s hand. “That’s not what I meant… I mean… I’m not skilled in that sort of thing… besides, Gaius needs me today!” Merlin stammered and stuttered as he attempted to back away and give any excuse possible, but Leon wasn’t having any of that and continued to close the distance between the two before looping a large, muscled arm behind Merlin’s neck in order to drag him close.

“Nonsense!” Leon cried, dragging Merlin towards the stables. “Gaius told me about how he gave you the afternoon off! We would truly appreciate it, I know Arthur would surely give you some sort of compensation for helping us out in our time of need!”

Gravel kicked and skidded beneath Merlin’s feet as he was pulled in the complete opposite direction of where he wanted to be. He would have much rather gone back to the game booths and faced Gaius’s quiet fury than help out at the jousting tournament. But the towering knight, albeit not nearly as muscular as one of his other companions, was making it very, very difficult to get away. Merlin’s mouth gaped and closed as he attempted to think up a better excuse not to have to do this, but he could think of nothing as the stables loomed above them and they passed through the wooden doors.

The afternoon light shot through the small cracks between the wooden boards of the stable, warming the straw beneath their feet. It was stuffy in the barn and the smell of horses and men assaulted Merlin’s nose as he and Leon passed over the threshold.

“Gentlemen!” Leon boomed as he gently pushed Merlin further into the structure, towards the walled off area closest to them and greeted a group of men dressed just as he was, all clad in silver and gold. The two men turned and roared a greeting to Leon in response, drifting away from the white gelding that Arthur was famous for riding and approached Leon and Merlin. Their names were flickering through Merlin’s mind, but the words were moving far too fast to settle. He, of course, had heard about both of them through the faire gossip. They were part of the most successful and popular jousting teams and everyone knew their names.

“Leon! Where have you been, sir?” A man with dark skin and darker eyes clapped a hand on Leon’s shoulder and grinned. “You were nearly ready to miss the tournament?” His dark eyes drifted down to Merlin. A wry smile lifted the edges of his lips. “And who have you brought us?”

“Now, now, Elyan, I would never abandon you!” Leon cried before pushing Merlin a bit closer to the men that had come to greet them. “This, my friends, is Merlin. You remember him from the gaming booths, don’t you? The boy that works for Gaius!”

“Oh yes, yes! The boy that scowls when we win at his games and take his prizes!” An overly muscular knight threw his head back and laughed, probably at the memories and suddenly Merlin remembered his name. Percival. Just in time as the mountain of a man dropped a meaty palm on Merlin’s shoulder, just as Leon had, and nearly buckled Merlin’s knees beneath the poor boy. No matter how strong Leon was, Percival was surely at least three times stronger and it took all of Merlin’s efforts not to drop to the hay covered dirt in agony. So he merely gave a humorless chuckle and nodded his head.

“You found a replacement for the page, then?” Elyan grinned and looked at Leon as if the man had brought him all of the solutions to the world’s problems. Leon nodded and the men stepped away. As Percival’s hand lifted from Merlin’s shoulder, it felt as if he had shifted off the weight of a two-ton boulder and his knees felt instantly relieved.

“Yes, yes. I told you I would, didn’t I? None of us could be able to carry the banner and do the other things the boy can. Some of us are not nearly as swift on our feet as we think we are, eh, Percival?” Leon grinned and both he and Elyan let out full belly chuckles at Percival’s expense. The man glowered for a mere moment before shrugging and shaking his head.

“Oh, right!” Merlin spoke up, the words leaving his lips before he could control them. “You were the one who nearly got run over by the horses the other day!” It had been a close call. The jousting knights, Arthur and another man, had leapt from their horses and had continued to do battle on their feet, wielding different weapons. It had always been an option the knights could pursue if the crowds weren’t as receptive to the jousting as the sometimes were. But when Percival had dashed out from his spot near the stables to give his liege a weapon to fight with, Arthur’s horse had nearly run the man over in the process.

It had certainly gotten the audience’s attention, and those that worked the fair had buzzed about it for hours after.

Percival’s neutral expression darkened at the mention of the incident and Merlin knew it would be in poor taste to further continue that conversation. He knew it had been a bad idea to say anything in the first place, but couldn’t help it. Luckily for him, Leon jumped between Percival and the much smaller Merlin with a bright grin.

“So you follow the tournament then! Good! We won’t have to teach you much, which is also grand since we don’t have much time.” The words were a punch to the skull and Merlin finally realized that they were true about their words and were not just joking about him participating in this whole debacle.

“I… I… oh no. I can’t. There’s now way…” Merlin shook his head, babbling once more like he had on the way to the stables. But the knights were not listening as they broke off to grab things on the walls that surrounded Arthur’s horse. The creature shifted on his hooves, excited at all the movement that was surrounding him.

“Nonsense, nonsense!” Leon cried, tossing Merlin a scarlet colored tunic. The boy scrambled to catch the piece of clothing before it hit the dirt. “Put this on!”

“And take this!” Just as Merlin pulled the tunic over his head, a pole was thrust into his hand and he stumbled at the weight of the large banner that was held atop the end closer to the ceiling.

A flurry of trumpets sounded and the crowds outside went wild at the chorus of instruments. After the horns blew their last notes, Merlin could hear the booming voice of Gwaine greeting not only the Normals, but their queen as well. It was the same speech generally every day and Merlin knew most of it by heart since he could hear Gwaine’s voice all the way from the gaming booths, but only when the crowd was silenced as he addressed Morgana. Merlin rarely heard the beginnings of his speech, or his introductions. As he spoke, the inside of the barn became chaos with activity from all of the teams. Men rushed from stable to stable, collecting their tunics with their representative nation, pole arms bearing flags like the one Merlin was struggling to keep upright, and attempting to get their knights ready.

Speaking of… leave it to Arthur to be fashionably late. Merlin was about to turn to one of the knights in scarlet to ask where their champion was when the man showed up, striding into the stable just in time.

“Well, well! Let’s get a move on, shall we? Don’t want to be late!” Arthur gleamed in his shining armor as he headed straight for his horse and hoisted himself up into the saddle with help from Leon. It was only when he was situated and settled that he glanced down when Leon handed him his helmet and caught sight of the new member of his team. A wry smirk found Arthur’s lips and he flipped a bit of blond hair out of his eyes as he looked Merlin up and down. “New page, I see? Good job, Sir Leon. Let’s hope he holds up to snuff.”

Merlin suddenly wanted to let the end of the pole drop on Arthur’s head. But he refrained and mere gave the man a pained look. Knights and their entourages began filing out of the darkened stables and Arthur’s group scrambled to their places. Leon gently shoved at Merlin’s shoulder, forcing him to the front of the group and even with the shoulders of Arthur’s horse as they began padding out of the stable and into the afternoon sun.

The roar of the crowds was nearly deafening as they entered the arena, moving through the large gate that decorated the entrance. Merlin could hear the crowd chanting Arthur’s name and the knight brightened considerably at the sound, waving and gloating his popularity to all. His helmet was tucked beneath his arm and he blew kisses to some of the more attractive female members of the crowd, receiving shrieks of adoration in return.

They looped around the arena and passed in front of the royal pavilion, finally lining up in front of the throne, Morgana and her attendants. Merlin struggled with the pole, having to lean it up against his shoulder to keep it from falling backwards and slamming into the skull of Elyan who had the unfortunate position of being behind him. When he finally got the pole under control, he looked up and saw a strange expression on Queen Morgana’s face. He couldn’t quite pin it down, whether it was fear, surprise or a mixture of the two. He risked a look behind him and was flustered that Elyan didn’t seem to be blinking an eye, nor making any sort of face or expression that could explain Morgana’s reaction.

Before he could decide if it was him or just Queen Morgana going crazy, however, the horns had sounded again, Morgana had regained her composure, and they were being ushered away from the pavilion and out of the arena in preparation of the jousting to begin.

The warm shade of the barn roof was a welcoming feeling, despite the lack of air circulation as Merlin stumbled inside, nearly knocking the high end of the pole into the frame of the large doors. All six groups went back to their individual stables, but two of the knights and their assistants stayed saddled and horsed, immediately heading back into the field once everyone else had passed. Gwaine’s voice filtered back into the barn as he introduced each of the knights and the crowd cheered in response, immediately choosing sides.

“Well, that was fun, but I should really get going. Gaius is surely needing my help by now!” Merlin stuttered and gave a nervous smile before attempting to pass off the flag to Elyan, who merely smirked and shook his head. Merlin’s eyes darted from him to Percy, but it was Leon who let out a roar of laughter when Merlin finally looked at him, not bothering with Arthur in the slightest. The big-headed knight had jumped off of his horse and had moved to an empty stable to practice his swordplay against the shadows.

“Dear Merlin! I already told you that Gaius gave me his permission to allow you to stay for the entire tournament! I think he and that gorgeous Guinevere can hold down those booths for the afternoon.” Leon’s smirk was unusually impish for a man who was normally quite stoic. He was having far too much fun at Merlin’s predicament.

The boy’s mouth opened and closed again and he felt his hands go sweaty around the pole he was still holding. It was only when the whole thing started slipping that Lancelot reached over and plucked it from his hands, resting it against a far wall.

“Have no fear, Merlin. It is easy,” Elyan attempted to reassure him, but there was a smile on his face that matched Leon’s and Merlin didn’t like it. The crowds applauded outside and two more knights galloped out of their stables as the previous two entered, one still atop his horse, the other limping inside, being held up by his pages. “Arthur will gallop down the arena once or twice, eventually knocking his opponent off of his horse, as always,” He glanced at Arthur, who was seeming to pay no attention to their conversation. “And when he needs a new lance, you bring it to him.”

“Then, once he leaps off of his horse to attack his opponent,” Percival started, snatching up one of the large swords from its place near their feet. “You must hand him his sword and shield. “

“Why can’t you do this part?” Merlin questioned, suspicious of why he was even doing it in the first place. He knew that Gaius was punishing him, that much was blatantly obvious. Even if the man hadn’t planned this, things had worked in his favor and Merlin hated him for it. But why couldn’t Elyan or Percy hand Arthur his sword and shield when it came time for the scripted scuffle that occurred at all of the jousting matches? Arthur was the fan favorite and always defended Queen Morgana’s honor when one of the knights lost his temper about his defeat and decided he wanted to take her hostage. He never got close enough to touch her, but no matter because the audience believed it and Arthur was able to be champion every single day.

It grew old.

But he wasn’t sure why none of the others couldn’t play the scripted part of handing Arthur his equipment to slay the foe and defend Queen Morgana.

“Well…” The three knights exchanged looks, as if they had no real reason and Merlin was about to throw his tunic in Leon’s face when the cheering crowd caught his attention.

“Time to work, Merlin!” Leon cried as Arthur strode to his horse and pulled himself onto it, shifting to get himself in a comfortable position. Percival clapped a hand on Merlin’s shoulder, nearly buckling his knees once more before pushing the sword and a shield into Merlin’s hands. Arthur directed his steed towards the opening of the barn, matching pace with his opponent. Percival’s hand on Merlin’s shoulder wasn’t just friendly, but it was a steering gesture, making sure Merlin didn’t bolt from his supposed responsibilities.

He still didn’t understand why he had to do this.

And he was going to kill Gaius when he was done.

The crowds hadn’t even come close to reaching the pinnacle of their madness until Arthur and his golden hair came trotting out of the barn, hand waving and bright smile greeting them all as if they were personal friends. Women swooned and men wanted to be him. Merlin couldn’t help rolling his eyes as he stumbled out into the sun, carrying Arthur’s shield and sword. The horses separated, Arthur’s opponent took off to get ready at the opposite end of the arena, horse snorting and sweating in the heat.

Merlin shuffled off to the side as Elyan handed Arthur his gleaming helmet. The piece of armor slid easily over Arthur’s head and he dropped the visor with a clank. Percy and Leon hoisted a lance up to Arthur, who cradled the handle in the crook of his arm. His horse snorted and paced in short strides, channeling the energy of his rider.

“And the moment you all have been waiting for!” Gwaine crowed as the competitors prepared themselves and their horses. He swung around a large pole near the pavilion where Queen Morgana and her company were seated, out of the way of the whole debacle, all the while being able to see everything and comment on it with his projected voice. “The knight on the north end, Sir Christian!”

The crowds cheered, but it was more polite than anything else as Gwaine swept an arm towards the knight, who raised his lance and trotted his horse in a circle, parading and attempting to gain a bit of support through show. Gwaine then spun around the pole and pointed at the other end of the arena with his other hand. As Merlin glanced up at his friend, they made eye contact and Gwaine’s eyebrow ticked up in a moment of silent question, as if attempting to ask Merlin why in the hell he was standing there with a shield and sword. But the moment didn’t last long as the crowed quieted and Gwaine had to move on.

“And finally, the man I know you all came to see in the first place!” He shouted, dragging out the introduction for as long as possible, despite everyone knowing who was under the helmet that he was pointing to. “In the south end, Sir Arthur!”

The arena exploded in cheers and shouts, louder than it had before that moment, even when Arthur had shown his face in their initial introductions. Merlin was a little bit impressed at how much of a celebrity Arthur was in this tourist trap, and instantly felt sickened at what he felt. He shouldn’t be impressed, especially since the jousting tournament didn’t bring in any money for the faire and everything Arthur did was scripted, even if he did take his job way too seriously.

It was sickening how popular he was, for merely beating another man with a large stick.

“Gentleman, prepare for battle!” Gwaine’s words just seemed to get the crowds and the competitors even more riled up as the two men steadied their horses and set them in their starting positions.

A young boy trotted out to the middle of the arena, holding a flag that was nearly as large as he was. Merlin could see the poor kid take a deep breath, as if the flag was too heavy and he had been doing this all day, which he actually had been.

“Three!” Gwaine began counting down as the boy steadied himself. “Two!” Merlin watched as the boy’s muscles tensed and tightened. “One! GO!” The page pulled the flag up and over his head, signaling the riders to begin their charge. Gravel skittered and sank beneath the boy’s feet as he turned and bolted away from the center posts, hoping to be fast enough to make it to the sidelines before the monstrous horses ran over him.

Hooves thundered through the gravel as the horses sprinted towards one another, their riders urging them faster and faster. Merlin watched as Arthur lowered his lance as he approached his rival. The other rider mirrored his actions and the lances passed through what looked like the same air, the tips slamming into the chest pieces of the opposite riders. Arthur’s armor took the glancing blow of his enemy’s lance, but Sir Christian was not so lucky. Wood splintered and shattered, flying from Arthur’s lance, forcing his opponent to rocket back and nearly get thrown from his saddle. But the man stayed seated atop his horse, as both men turned and rocketed back to their starting position to get new lances.

“Lance!” The white gelding approached the group of knights and Merlin. Arthur’s growl was muffled as it came through his helmet. He threw his ruined lance to the side, almost nailing Merlin in the head with the large wooden weapon. Merlin let out a yelp and scrambled to the side, nearly dropping the shield and sword that he was responsible for. He barely had time to recover before Percy was handing Arthur another lance and the knight was readying himself for another attack.

Gwaine counted down once more, surely to the page’s exhaustion as the boy sprinted to the center and away again with his flag, and the knights galloped toward the middle of the arena again. The horses salivated and sweated as they were run their hardest. Arthur rammed his lowered lance into the sweet spot on his opponent’s chest and Merlin winced as the man was thrown from his horse with what seemed like minimal effort from Arthur.

The crowd exploded in celebration.

Arthur threw his helmet off, beaming with glee and pride as he trotted his horse in a turn and came back to face the defeated opponent as well as his adoring fans. But that look turned to surprise when the knight scrambled to his feet and sprinted towards his page, ripping a sword from the boy’s hands and brandishing it at Arthur in an act of challenge.

“Get off that horse and fight me like a man, Sir Arthur!” Sir Christian cried, ripping his helmet off. The surrounding parties, both the royal escorts and all that were helping the jousts were suddenly stunned at the odd step in events. Merlin frowned, shifting Arthur’s sword and shield in his arms. This wasn’t how the joust was supposed to go, at least from what he could remember. Every time he watched the event or heard about it from the Normals later, it included whoever Arthur was jousting being thrown from his horse and losing, sure, but Arthur was then presented to Queen Morgana first before the renegade knight challenged him to a fight by sword.

Sir Christian seemed to be skipping that act.

The challenging knight’s sword glinted in the sun, nearly blinding those in the now silent crowd. No one knew how to proceed.  Even Arthur, who could improvise even the most drastic of changes in the combat choreography, seemed stunned. He turned to look at Leon, who merely shrugged.

“Sir Arthur! Are you a coward?” Christian taunted, as he slowly crossed toward Morgana’s pavilion. “How about some incentive? Should I draw some royal blood to get you off of that horse?” His voice rose to a shout as he moved to leap up onto the platform where the royal party was sitting.

Merlin immediately looked at Morgana, who seemed shocked to even be addressed before her scripted moment. Her guards were moving to block the way to her elaborate and ornate throne when Arthur spoke, his voice ringing out over the arena. Merlin was sure even Gaius and Gwen could hear him, it was so quiet in the jousting space.

“Enough, Sir Christian! I thought you a humble knight, but I was wrong!” He swung a leg over the back end of his horse and dropped to the ground, sinking in the gravel and dirt. But he stood tall, sunlight sparking off of his armor as he moved to address the audience as well as his challenger. “I have no fear of you, nor am I a coward. Only a man who threatens a queen is a true coward. Face me like a man!”

Arthur stalked towards Merlin, not looking at his face, but his weaponry as he held out his hands. Merlin fumbled with the large pieces, attempting to first hand Arthur his sword and then his shield. The shield was nearly dropped, but Arthur caught it and slung it over his forearm, barely giving Merlin a second look as he turned on his heel and headed towards Christian, not spending the extra energy to hurry towards his opponent.

Merlin’s arms felt infinitely lighter as the weight of the weapons were lifted from him. He rubbed the muscles in his upper arms as he watched Christian leap down from his perch and began striding towards Arthur, rushing to meet him not far from Merlin and the rest of Arthur’s support party. A breeze swept through the arena, forcing flags to snap and crack on their poles, and lifted hair off of sweaty foreheads.

He turned to Leon, not interested in the combat despite it being slightly off script. Maybe Christian was bored of losing for the umpteenth time and wanted to shake things up. Merlin had no idea and didn’t care. He knew Arthur was going to win, and decided he didn’t need to watch that again. Swords clanked as they connected and Merlin could faintly hear the grunting of the fighters as they moved about the arena.

“Leon, do you need me anymore?” There was slight desperation in his voice, and Merlin attempted to hide it. But the wry smirk on Leon’s face told him that he hadn’t succeeded.

“What, Merlin, you don’t want to watch our fearless lea—look out!”

It was an odd transition and Merlin opened his mouth to question it when he was shoved forward towards Arthur’s horse. A cry slipped up his throat and through his lips as he realized that Arthur himself had been on the defense from a swinging blow by Christian and had gotten far too close to his attendants. The gravel and dirt slid beneath Merlin’s feet as he attempted to get his bearings. His yell, as well as the ringing of steel weapons crashing against one another sang in his ears as he stumbled forward, hands outstretched and finally colliding with the Arthur’s horse.

The warm body beneath his fingers writhed in panic as it shifted away from him. Fear flashed in the horse’s dark eyes as it tried to get away from Merlin, and the only way it could do that was by rearing up on its hind legs, front legs kicking desperately in the air.

“Ah!” It seemed that was the only noise Merlin could make as he was cloaked in the shadow thrown by the horse that loomed over him. He rebounded off of the beast, thrown backward and to the side. He couldn’t see Percy scrambling to calm the horse, or the two knights stopping their fight to help. Instead, all he saw was sweating animal, sky and then darkness as he tripped and fell backwards, his skull hitting the edge of the metal barrier fence with a crack.

Flashes of light and images sparked and stuttered through Merlin’s brain. He couldn’t control the speed at which they moved, nor could he return to images that he wanted to look more closely at. It was like being in that shaky dream state between sleeping and waking where the dreamer knew they were dreaming, yet couldn’t control anything going on.

Arthur’s crew armed with real swords, striding through a crowd in flowing cloaks of red.

Arthur sitting at a large table, his knights in the seats around him. It looked as if they were planning something, with maps spread across the surface of the table, maps of an unusually familiar place that Merlin couldn’t quite identify.

Images of him and Gaius bent over a scarred wooden table, hands flying over glass vials, bowls and what looked like the entire contents of the apothecary tent’s inventory. His mind rocked as the image switched from seeing himself next to Gaius, to looking directly into Gaius’s eyes and seeing the work beneath his pale hands.

Those same pale hands reaching out, gesturing to a large shape in the darkness. The shape shifting and moving until Merlin was looking directly into the amber eyes of a great dragon.

A scowling, pale woman in a green dress. Her dark hair was curled and snarled around her head as she swept around a small, stone room. She was chanting something before she finally turned and looked at Merlin, green eyes sparking with fear, anger, and determination. It was a moment before Merlin recognized Morgana. Her eyes flashed gold and all he saw was white.

Gwen in a regal dress, more elaborate than anything she wore at the faire, and a crown on her head. Turning, she holds out a hand and grasps the fingers of… Arthur, who looks like a king in his royal garb and the elaborate crown on his head. She smiles at him and he returns the expression, and for some reason, Merlin can’t help but feel happy at the sight. They both turn to face Merlin and he’s in a crowd of people, all gathered in a large hall.

And for the first time, Merlin hears sounds. The crowd is chanting.

“Long live Queen Guinevere!”

“Long live King Arthur!”

“Long live Camelot!”

Guinevere was reaching her hand out once more, only this time it was towards Merlin. He could hear his name being called out, over and over.

“Merlin!”

“Merlin!”

“MERLIN!”

 


	5. Once Upon a Camelot Curse - Chapter Five

Merlin’s eyes snapped open, blurry but focusing quickly on the floating heads above him. His vision cleared and finally he could see a familiar face, although a faint image was spread over her face, as if he was still remembering her in that crown she had been wearing. A groan slipped up through his throat and out of his dry lips.

“Where… am… I?” The words were hard on his throat.

“Oh, Merlin. You’re in the medical tent.” Gwen’s face was etched with concern as she leaned over him, her cool fingers wrapped around his own. Merlin blinked at her, not sure why he should be in the medical tent. But as he broke the gaze between him and Gwen, his eyes looked past her shoulder and saw that he was, in fact, laying on a cot in a stuffy tent. “We were so worried about you after you fell!”

We?

And that’s when Merlin saw them. The group of knights that had forced him into the arena in the first place. It was obvious, at first look, that they were all at least concerned about him and Leon was the first to step forward.

“Merlin… I’m sorry. It should have been safe.” The other knights shifted on their feet and Merlin couldn’t help but wave them off with his free hand.

“It’s alright. Honestly. I’m fine.” And with that, he attempted to sit up, but Gwen’s free hand pushed gently on his chest, forcing him back down on the cot.

“Oh no. They gave you the all clear, but I’m not buying it. Gaius said you could have the afternoon off to recover.” The determined look in her eyes made Merlin’s stomach twist, as if he was suddenly remembering something important that he had forgotten, but couldn’t quite get a hold on what it was.

“Well then, why should I spend my free afternoon in here?” He tried to give her a lopsided smile, but the concern was still in her face. Merlin sighed and attempted to sit up again, pushing against Gwen’s hand as she tried to keep him horizontal. He shook his head and finally sat up. The room tilted for a moment, but Merlin squeezed his eyes shut to force the feeling to go away.

As soon as he did, there was another flash of he and Arthur trotting down a large staircase that led to a stone courtyard where a pair of horses were waiting for both of them.

Merlin opened his eyes and the sight burned like an after image on his vision. He shook his head and the ghosts of Arthur and him vanished.

“Honestly, Gwen. I’m fine. I promise.” Merlin smiled at her and after a moment, Gwen sighed. She opened her mouth to protest.

“Merlin! Mate! Glad you’re awake!” The boisterous voice of Gwaine shot through the tent, like a spark in a pile of dry straw. Leon and the other knights turned as Gwaine bounded into the tent, all smiles and large gestures as he moved through the small crowd to Merlin’s cot. “We were worried about you, my good sir. Come on, Gwen. Let the poor boy go. I’m buying him a drink!”

Merlin looked at Gwen, who seemed to realize that she couldn’t win against the charismatic Gwaine. The man in question fluttered his eyelashes at Gwen and she shook her head in defeat.

“Fine. Take care of him, Gwaine. If I find out he’s back here, it’ll be you I’m going to be looking for.” She waved a finger in his face before rising, brushing dirt from her skirts. “Be careful. Any sign of wooziness, come back here, do you hear me, Merlin? If you need me, I’ll be with Gaius.” Her demands were oddly familiar, and that stomach-turning sensation happened again, forcing Merlin to wonder if he shouldn’t stay on the cot.

But before he could second-guess himself too much, Gwaine reached down and grabbed Merlin’s arm, yanking him up and out of the cot.

“That’s a good man! Shake it off.” Gwaine gave Gwen a dashing smirk before yanking Merlin out of the tent and back into the crowds of the faire. Merlin waved a good bye to those that had congregated in the tent as he allowed Gwaine to lead the way to their usual haunt.

The crowds were thinning as the day went on, although many Normals were starting to congregate around the food booths and bars that were spattered around the faire. Every so often, a tourist would stop and point, maybe whisper to their family and nod in Merlin’s direction. He frowned at the actions and tried to keep up with Gwaine’s pace. Gwaine, on the other hand, had noticed the reactions and couldn’t help grinning at Merlin.

“You’re famous, Merlin!” He cried out as he steered his friend up a rocky path to a small bar that was quickly filling with tourists. It was as a quaint stall and Merlin always enjoyed having a drink with Gwaine here. They tolerated Gwaine’s antics and allowed the boys to take up a table in their small courtyard, or a stool at the bar, when they pleased.

“For what? Getting in the way of Arthur and hitting my head on a rock? What if I don’t want to be famous?” Merlin scowled as he approached the bar. Gwaine shrugged and flashed two fingers at the barmaid, winking as he did so.

It was always comfortable, drinking with Gwaine. But as they received their flasks of ale, Merlin couldn’t help squashing that turn in his stomach once more. It felt far too familiar now, as if they had done it before, somewhere else other than the faire. But it couldn’t possibly be true. So he took his drink from Gwaine, instead.

Crowds were starting to move to and from the outdoor bars, exchanging money for food and drinks at a rapid pace. Even their own hidden spot was busy and by the time they got their drinks, the tables were all taken and only the bar remained.

“I probably shouldn’t be drinking with a head injury,” Merlin said, raising his mug at a smirking Gwaine.

The man shrugged. “You had a hard day, Merlin. I suggest you celebrate surviving it instead of worrying about the consequences that will never come!” And with that, Gwaine took his own advice and downed a portion of the liquid in his cup.

Merlin shrugged and glanced down at the amber colored drink he was holding. His own reflection, wavy as it was with the movement of his arm, stared back at him, but only for a moment as he raised the mug to his face.

And promptly spilled a good portion of the drink down his front as a Normal passed by through the crowd of people and bumped his arm, sloshing the ale in the mug and onto Merlin.

“Augh!” Merlin cried as the cold ale seeped through his shirt and already started to cling to his skin.

The tourist passed without a second look behind him, and Merlin glowered at his back. Gwaine laughed, and the sound only seemed to fuel Merlin’s anger at the incident. His lip curled as he focused all of the day’s feelings into hating this man. The frustration with Gaius and the guards, the irritation at having to be a part of the jousting, and now the latent anger at being injured while being forced to work in a part of the faire he hadn’t wanted to be in the first place. Add the spilled ale, and that small ball of emotions grew in his chest. He wanted to scream at the man who was merely walking away instead of stopping to apologize.

Suddenly, there was a hot flash behind Merlin’s eyes. It felt as if the tangle of emotions had left his chest and Merlin gasped slightly as he slammed his eyes shut. Was this a symptom of hitting his head? Surely not. But as he opened his eyes, he expected a concerned look from Gwaine. Instead, his friend was turned away, looking at the tourist that was sprawled on his back, lying on the dirt floor of the outdoor bar.

“Did you see that bloke?!” Gwaine shouted. “He did this odd dance move and then fell! It was…” He shook his head, turning back to Merlin. But the amazed look on his face fell away when he caught sight of his friend. “You alright, Merlin?”

Merlin blinked at Gwaine, but he couldn’t help the sick feeling in his stomach that was surely translated on his face. He shook his head for a moment, attempting to clear the fuzz that was going on in his brain.

“Yeah. Fine. Just…” He gestured at the spill down his front.

“But can you believe that?! You saw it, right?” Gwaine questioned, turning back to look at the man who was attempting to peel himself off of the gravel.

Merlin nodded, although he knew Gwaine didn’t really need an answer as his friend continued to babble on about how high in the air the man’s feet had gotten when he had tripped and fallen and how great it would have been if he had been carrying a drink in his hand and how he hoped someone had gotten that on their phone and blah blah blah. Merlin, however, was searching the bar top for napkins and finding none near him.

“Gwaine, can you hand me…” But his friend was still blathering on and Merlin sighed, feeling uncomfortable in the ale soaked tunic he was now wearing. He turned on his seat and found a napkin holder a few seats down from him. The crowd of people settled at the bar hindered access to the container, and Merlin strained to reach it, but with no avail, he couldn’t even tip the thing over with his fingertips. All he wanted was the bloody napkins!

And then he felt that shock of heat behind his eyes once more, and the napkin holder slid towards him and settled into his fingers as if the whole thing had a mind of its own.

Merlin’s heart thrashed in his chest. That time… he knew something was off. Napkin holders didn’t just jump into your hand like that. Even he knew that much. He turned and was suddenly face to face with Gwaine.

“What was that, Merlin?” The question could have easily been requesting Merlin to repeat his need for napkins… but he didn’t think so as Gwaine was staring particularly hard at him, not really blinking.

“I… I have to go. Gaius probably needs me at the game booth.” Merlin slipped off of his stool and slapped Gwaine on the shoulder. “See you later.” Before Gwaine could protest, Merlin slipped through the crowds, not sure if he was going to be heading in the direction of the game booths or not, but he knew he needed to get out of there.

He was going crazy. The dreams while he had been passed out had been merely dreams, right? But they felt… comfortable. Like home. Like what he was currently doing was a dream. But Merlin couldn’t sort it all out as he moved through the throngs of people. And what had been with the napkin holder and that tourist? He hadn’t done those things, forcing the man to trip or getting the holder to slide right into his hand.

Right?

It all seemed far too surreal to be true. But for some reason, the idea of making those things happen didn’t make him uncomfortable. Instead, it felt like that was the way things were supposed to be, just as Gwen was supposed to be wearing a crown and the guys who helped Arthur were actually knights and not just actors.

And the image that still floated in his head, of Gwen and Arthur standing next to one another just felt real. Merlin couldn’t shake the feeling, despite logically knowing that Arthur probably had no idea who Gwen even was, let alone would hold her hand or treat her like a queen. As for Gwen, Merlin knew that she wouldn’t be anyone’s queen, let alone Arthur’s.

At least, he assumed so.

But it was like a fine film was spread over his eyes, and what he knew about his friends seemed wrong, somehow. That everything he had grown to like and admire was not exactly what they were like. Sure, personality wise they were the same, but the circumstances seemed off.

The tourists were beginning to filter out of the faire towards the exit gates. Merlin turned to watch them leave, since he wasn’t sure where he was going anyway. But something was off. At first, he assumed it was a trick of the light… it had to be. He blinked and stepped a little closer to the gates, as if that would help.

And then it happened again.

As the visitors passed through the gates to get to their cars, they vanished suddenly. No one else seemed to be bothered by this, and Merlin watched it happen over and over again. His heart thumped in his chest.

 _When was the last time I had ever gone through those gates?_ He questioned, suddenly frightened at the thought. It was an odd feeling… but Merlin was almost certain he had never stepped through those gates. Surely he would remember it… but when the sun went down, it was almost as if night never existed and the new day just began.

He spun on his heel, watching the employees of the faire as they began packing up their goods and shutting down shop. They all seemed to be in a trance of sorts, not really talking to one another but attempting to get everything packed up before the night fell.

As the faire grounds emptied, it grew quieter and quieter and Merlin wasn’t sure how long he stood there, merely watching everyone work. But as the last tourists disappeared through the archways, the participants of the faire finished cleaning and packing up and were slowly leaving their booths and other attractions. Each of them had a slightly glazed look over their face as they all headed away from their booths. Merlin knew he should follow, but he couldn’t get his feet to move in that direction. Instead, his body turned and headed towards the gates that were still open but unmanned.

He was going to get out of here. To prove to himself that he could leave if he wanted to, and always had been able to. He was being an idiot. The knock on the head obviously had done more damage than he had thought.

But for some reason, Merlin couldn’t stop himself as he began jogging and soon sprinting towards the gates.

He would get through.

No one seemed to notice or care as he hurtled through the gates. And for a split second, Merlin both knew he would succeed as well as probably fail. The part of him that had worked daily in Gaius’s gaming booths knew he was able to leave. But the part of his brain that had seen Gwaine dressed as one of Arthur’s knights and witnessed Gwen dressed as a queen knew it wouldn’t happen.

Merlin could see through the gates up until he collided with a solid wall, sending a shockwave through his body. A flash of blue light exploded in his face, rejecting him and throwing him in the direction he had come from. Merlin landed on his back, knocking the wind out of his lungs. And quite like when he had hit his head earlier in the day, he saw visions. But these were so much more real than before.

He and Arthur scrabbling through the forest, swords swinging as they battled amongst the other knights and bandits that had attempted to attack their traveling party. He could feel the breath hard in his chest as they sprinted through underbrush and slid on rocks. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck.

Then he was with Lancelot, talking as they walked down the halls of a castle that seemed so familiar, like a home. Only snippets of their conversation were clear to Merlin, but he felt anxious despite Lancelot’s reassuring tone. Words popped out of the dreamy silence. Magic. Yours. Savior. All from Lancelot’s mouth and directed at Merlin.

Another flash and he was facing a dark haired woman. Morgana. She looked so much wilder than he knew his queen to look, different from what he remembered her to be. But how could he remember her as anything but an actress pretending to be a queen? She held a hand up and her eyes flashed gold. Rocks crumbled around them, falling down. And suddenly Merlin saw himself from the outside. He watched as his own eyes sparked gold like Morgana’s had and Merlin knew what was happening.

Magic.

Merlin’s eyes flicked open and he stared at the dark sky. It was crazy. He couldn’t possibly be thinking that all that he had just seen was true. But there was some sort of barrier keeping him in the faire grounds, so who was to say what was and what wasn’t real?

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the slight tilt in his balance as he moved away from the gates. Where was he going to go? Who would believe him? The dirt roads were empty, as everyone had gone, well, wherever they went for the night since they couldn’t leave either, Merlin assumed. Everything was dark, the booths shut tight and the lanterns extinguished.

Except for one tent.

Morgana's.

 


	6. Once Upon a Camelot Curse - Chapter Six

Morgana nearly thought she was rid of Merlin when he had stumbled into that horse.

She hadn’t expected to see him on the jousting grounds that afternoon. The universe that the curse had created was at least friendly enough towards Morgana that it had separated Arthur and his cronies from one another enough that they couldn’t become any sort of ally. Sure, he still had his idiot knights, but they were far too stupid to do any sort of damage to the curse.

Merlin on the other hand… there was always something sneaky about the boy.

So when she had seen him carrying Arthur’s flag, her heart had raced just a little bit. It had been difficult concentrating on the jousting tournament, although Morgana didn’t really need to do that anymore since she had seen so many of them and knew exactly what was going to happen if things went as scripted.

So when Sir Christian had challenged Arthur to the duel early… it had grown interesting. She had nearly thought he would leap onto her platform and take her hostage and had to wonder what he was thinking, as if he was taking things into his own hands because hew as tired of losing each and every day as well. But Arthur went along with it well enough.

At least until he had nearly killed Merlin.

Not that Morgana was complaining about any of it.

When they had carted Merlin off with what seemed like a head injury, Morgana hoped it was more serious than it looked. Him slipping into a deep unconscious sleep would be wonderful and keep him out of her way.

But then she had heard the news that he had recovered shortly after being taken away and her day grew dark. Morgana had swept from the pavilion with her escorts after allowing Gwaine to make some sort of pathetic speech about regretting the happenstances and whatnot. It didn’t matter. What did was that out of the countless days that Morgana had been queen, something had gone differently than it had each and every other day.

Was her curse breaking?

She doubted it, but it didn’t allow her much relief as she rushed back to her tent, sending away everyone but her loyal Juliana and Lancelot, who were currently perched on a low cushioned seat, staring vapidly at their queen as Morgana paced in her tent. She could hear the crowds leaving the faire grounds but wasn’t concerned about them. She wasn’t concerned about what Juliana or Lancelot were hearing either. Morgana needed to get her thoughts out of her mind, and they were stupid enough to believe this was all a game anyway.

It wasn’t like they would remember anything in the morning as it were. Morgana was almost positive that when the morning came, everyone’s memories were wiped of nearly everything except the basics of their pseudo lives.

“I nearly had him!” Morgana shouted, fuming at the thought. “He would have been at least wounded enough to be out of my way!” She had been on this rampage for at least the last fifteen minutes and her voice was growing hoarse at the yelling she was doing. Morgana knew she could easily attract attention, but she didn’t care. All of that anger and frustration on being stuck without her magic was bubbling up and festering in her body. “Short of breaking the entire damned curse myself by reminding those idiots of who they really are, I’m going to be stuck here with all of them instead of ruling Camelot like I’m supposed to be doing!”

She flung her hands out, as if casting a spell. It was a habit she couldn’t seem to break, but when she had been angry in Camelot, using her magic to at least break something helped relieve some of the tension in her body. Nothing ever happened in this world, of course, but Morgana couldn’t help it, and performed the gesture with no thought of it doing anything.

At least until the familiar heat behind her eyes flared up and the vase across the tent exploded into clay shards.

Juliana screeched at the sudden detonation and her hands flew to cover her mouth. Lancelot jumped to his feet, hand going straight for his blunt sword. Morgana froze. Had she… it had been… Her head whipped to the mirror and she saw the last remnants of gold fade from her irises.

“I have… it’s back… but how…?” Morgana sputtered, turning to Juliana, who was shaking violently from the explosion. “Do you know what this means?!” Morgana cried out, asking Juliana but not caring that the girl shook her head. Lancelot looked lost as well, but his entire stature screamed that he was on guard for anything, even if Morgana wasn’t hurt. “It means I can get back to Camelot! Without those idiots following me! And if I can’t, I can at least rule this place like I was meant to!”

There was a gasp, and Morgana looked at Juliana, expecting the sound to have come from her. But the girl still had her hands over her mouth. Morgana spun just as the flap that led into her tent flipped closed and a shadow darted away. She snarled as she sprinted to the entrance of the tent and stuck her head out, attempting to catch the spy. The sound of gravel crunching allowed her to focus on a retreating figure, but it was nearly impossible to know who it was that was running away.

But she could surely assume.

Merlin.

 


	7. Once Upon a Camelot Curse - Chapter Seven

He had run. Run as fast as he could away from Morgana’s tent, but Merlin was sure she had seen him. At first, he hadn’t believed his visions or all of the clues that led him to think that perhaps not everything was as it seemed. But Morgana’s magic and her exclamation of being back in Camelot…

It all made sense.

It had made everything click.

And somehow, Merlin knew he had to get them back before Morgana could strand them in whatever place she had dropped them.

First, however, it was the running and hiding he had to do.

There was no way he could go to the games booth to hide, it would probably be one of the first places she would look if she came after him. So Merlin had sought out one of the last spots that anyone would expect him to be.

The stables.

It was there that he stayed through the night, constantly watching to make sure Morgana wasn’t attempting to hunt him down. But once the sun began to break over the high fences, Merlin knew he would be safe for at least a few hours. He emerged from the stuffy barn smelling of horses and knowing his hair was every which way. Strange looks were thrown his way as he headed towards the game booths from those that were appearing to set up their own trades for the day’s faire.

They all acted as if nothing was wrong.

But Merlin had to figure out how to get things back to normal. Morgana had brought them here, and she was going to leave them all in an attempt to get back to Camelot. There was no way that Merlin could let that happen! But he wasn’t sure how to go about convincing everyone that what he said was true.

Gaius would believe him, right?

“Gaius!” Merlin called out, hoping to get the old man’s attention before Morgana and her guards could come barreling down on him. The booths were empty and for a moment, Merlin feared he was going to have to find someone else who was less likely to believe him, like Arthur or Leon. After a moment, though, Gaius appeared around a corner, carrying the box of stuffed frogs that Gwen normally set up.

The old man had a confused look on his face. “Merlin? There you are!” Gaius shook his head as he slipped behind the wooden counter and began placing frogs on their pedestals. “I was worried about you yesterday! Heard all about the incident at the jou--”

“No time, Gaius. You have to listen to me!” Merlin felt himself growing frantic and he forced his voice to lower so as not to attract unwanted attention. Who knew what was actually going on here? Morgana could easily be working with someone else, even if it didn’t seem that way last night. Anyone could be a spy for her. He leaned over the counter, hoping to convey just how serious the whole thing was. “Gaius, I hit my head last night.”

“Yes, yes, my boy. I know. I heard.” Gaius replied slowly, as if he was absolutely sure that Merlin was having more than the usual trouble comprehending more than a few sentences at a time.

Merlin shook his head. “No, you don’t understand. When I hit my head, I saw things. Us. Gwen. Arthur. All of us together. Arthur was a king and Gwen was his queen!”

“I was what?” Gwen came out from around the same corner that Gaius had appeared from, carrying a quiver filled with soft tipped arrows for the shooting range. She had an amused smirk on her lips, and it only grew wider as Merlin stuttered, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to explain.

“Listen. It felt real! And then I saw Morgana last night in her tent--”

“You were spying on Morgana?” Gwen questioned harshly, frowning at the idea that Merlin was some sort of peeping tom.

He groaned and shook his head again. “No! She was talking about a curse! That had sent us all here, away from our home in Camelot! And how she was going to strand us here! And then she did magic!” Merlin didn’t want to bring out the magic card quite yet, but he had no idea how else to explain it.

Unfortunately, it didn’t help. Gaius and Gwen looked at one another and both burst out laughing.

“Merlin, dear boy, I believe we should take you to the hospital tent again. You’re hallucinating.” Gaius set down the box of frogs and began moving towards Merlin with the intention of leading him away. He reached out a hand, but Merlin jumped way.

“No! Listen, it’s true! Watch!” He turned and stared at the box of frogs, willing it to tip over. None of those feelings from the previous day came, however, and all he felt was doubt. And frustration. And an urgent panic. Merlin allowed all of those feelings to overwhelm him and crash inside him until he felt the now familiar warm spark behind his eyes and the box jumped off of the ledge and spilled out the few frogs that were still inside out into the dirt.

Gwen jumped, but recovered quickly, giving a nervous laugh as she did so.

“Merlin, that doesn’t prove anything. The box was nearly empty and that was obviously a breeze that pushed it over.” She replied, although her tone suggested that she was attempting to reassure herself of that rather than argue with Merlin.

Merlin groaned, jumping back yet again as Gaius reached out to take hold of his arm. “I’m not going to the hospital tent! But you are coming with me. We’re going to find Arthur!” Merlin reached out and snatched Gwen’s wrist, yanking her forward and with him as he began stalking towards the stables, leaving Gaius behind.

“Merlin! Ow! You’re hurting me. This is insane!” Gwen shouted, gaining the attention of some of the tourists that had already began trickling into the faire grounds. But Merlin ignored them and her as he kept up his pace. He had to find Arthur. The idiot probably wouldn’t believe him, but it didn’t matter. The visions he had gotten of Arthur and Gwen together felt so utterly right that it was the only thing Merlin could think to do other than shouting himself hoarse from trying to explain what he knew was going on.

“You’ll believe me, even if I have to fix all of this myself!” For some odd reason, Merlin had a feeling that he was going to have to do that anyway. He had magic. Morgana had magic. But he knew that no one else did. From what Merlin remembered, Gaius could do some spells and knew the lore better than anyone. But Merlin was going to have to fix all of this.

He needed help, though.

“Arthur!” Merlin shouted when they reached the stables. He knew Arthur had to be here preparing for the day’s joust. Where else would the buffoon be? He pulled Gwen inside the shadowed barn, eyes searching for the familiar red of Arthur’s cloak. Even the other knights would be helpful right now.

“What, you clotpole? Stop scaring the horses!” A deep voice replied. The owner, Arthur, emerged from behind one of the wooden partitions, wiping his hands on a soiled rag.

“Arthur, you have to listen to me. This is important.” He felt out of breath, but Merlin forced himself to continue. He was, however, interrupted by Arthur.

“Easy, easy. You’re that bloke that interrupted my rather exciting duel yesterday, aren’t you? Monty… or something like that?” Arthur smirked before turning his gaze upon Gwen. “And who are you, my love?” His voice sounded creepy to Merlin, slimy almost and Merlin wasn’t sure this was going to work if Arthur wasn’t himself during this whole thing.

Merlin felt his grasp on Gwen slip as she pulled away from him. Her lip curled at Arthur’s obvious attempt at wooing her.

“Merlin. My name is Merlin. And we’re all in danger.” That certainly got Arthur’s attention as the star knight turned and quirked an eyebrow at Merlin. “Listen. Morgana is evil. She’s put a curse on all of us and made us forget what we used to be like! You are a king!”

The eyebrow got higher and Arthur let out a loud cackle. “Me? A king? I wish, Monty. I wanted that role, but they decided to go for a queen. Morgana, in fact, so I find it interesting that you think she’s evil considering she… you know… runs this place. Are you sure you didn’t hit your head harder than the medics think you did?”

Merlin sighed, tired of them suspecting that this was all because of a head injury. “I don’t have a head injury! You and Gwen are supposed to be king and queen of Camelot. Our Camelot. Not this place.”

“Oh, really?” Arthur’s smirk deepened as he flipped the rag over his shoulder and sauntered over to Gwen. “Well, if that’s what we’re supposed to be doing, I’m sure I could make you my queen.” He purred at her, attempting to slide his arms around her waist and lean in for a kiss.

Gwen wasn’t having any of it, however, and cried out in disgust, ripping away from Arthur’s grasp and stepping away from the both of them. “Forget it! That’s enough, Merlin. I’m not playing along with any more of your delusions. You need to go see the medic. Now.”

“No, Gwen. You have to listen.” Merlin didn’t care that no one was supposed to know he had magic. That Arthur, once he found out, would want to kill him on the spot. Gwen brushed the first instance off as Gaius had. As soon as he got them all back to Camelot, they would understand, surely. And if they didn’t?

He’d worry about that next.

“You know it’s true. You saw what I did with that box!” Merlin cried, growing desperate to shatter the disbelieving look on Gwen’s face. Arthur looked downright confused, the suave smirk gone from his face. But right now, it was all about Gwen. If Merlin could get her to understand and believe him, they had a chance to beat Morgana at her game. “You have to bel--”

“Merlin!” The sound of clinking chain mail and armor made all three of them turn. A group of soldiers clad in black and green approached the barn and blocked the doors. Merlin’s heart thudded in his chest.

Morgana’s men.

“We’re here to take you to the queen. She’d like to have a word with you.” One of the knights stepped forward. His face was unfamiliar for a moment, until Merlin realized it was Lancelot, someone who had been loyal to Arthur in Camelot. He had been the other figure in the tent last night as well. But he seemed fully intent on following Morgana’s orders.

“No thanks. I’m good here.” Merlin took a step back, further into the safety of the barn. If he could get out through the back exit, perhaps he could escape Morgana for just a little bit longer.

But Lancelot was having none of it. He gave a friendly shrug and held out a hand, as if he was going to guide Merlin out of the stables. “Come on, Merlin. It’s just a game she’s playing, remember? It’s not like we’re going to torture you or anything.”

Merlin’s stomach sank at the words. Lancelot thought he was joking, but Merlin knew that Morgana could easily do just that if she wanted to in this world. Everyone thought it was all an act for the tourists, and she could play it off that way, all the way up to putting him in the stocks forever, or letting him disappear. He took another step back.

“Alright then. Lads, follow your orders.” Lancelot commanded, waving his outstretched arm towards Merlin. His cohorts stormed forward, quickly overtaking Merlin despite his attempts to back away. Their strong grips tightened over Merlin’s arms and he couldn’t help wincing at the pressure as they pushed him back towards the entrance of the stables.

“Oi, now, wait a second! This isn’t funny.” Arthur moved to grab one of the guards by the shoulder, but was intercepted by Lancelot, who quickly moved between them. “It’s just an act. Let him go. You’re hurting him!” He shouted over Lancelot’s shoulder at the other guards.

Lancelot shook his head. “Sorry, Arthur. See the tourists? It’s a good act, to say the least. Gets them all excited. Nothing’s going to happen to him. Relax.”

“Don’t believe him, Arthur! He doesn’t know what he’s saying! Listen to me!” Merlin struggled against the guards, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to win in a battle of strength. They had their hands locked around his upper arms and were practically carrying him into the sunlight. He craned his neck to look at Gwen and Arthur. “Try and leave! Try and go through the gates! You’ll believe me then! You two can break the curse! You’re supposed to be together!”

It took more and more effort to call to them as the guards dragged him further and further away. They both looked confused as Lancelot followed his guards out of the barn and left Gwen and Arthur to stand alone in the darkness of the stables. His feet dragged through the gravel as they marched him up past all of the shops and food stalls and to Morgana’s tent.

However, instead of going inside, they passed it and continued on. Merlin frowned, sure that it was a mistake. Why would they bring him anywhere else? And where were they going to take them? Morgana’s tent was the most private place he could think of, considering she wouldn’t want more of a scene than was already being made. Tourists were pointing and whispering, and the other actors were laughing and shouting as they played their characters correctly.

The answer was quite obvious, however, when a large structure rose in front of them. It was shaped almost like a castle, but in that fake modern way that looked nothing like one. The whole place was a tour for guests to see what it was like to live in a castle, and more importantly, the dungeons were they could witness what a true torture chamber looked like.

Screaming wouldn’t be out of place there.

Merlin was shoved through the stone archway and down the smooth steps that led to the dungeon. It was still early in the day, so the castle wasn’t nearly as crowded as it would be in a few hours. The few voices inside bounced eerily off of the walls and covered up most of the sounds of their footsteps. Merlin’s heart thudded. Lancelot led the way down to the dungeon and through the main room that housed a majority of the larger torture equipment pieces. But instead of heading to any of the exhibit rooms, they veered down an empty hallway.

Lancelot reached out and opened a wooden door, letting it swing inside, revealing a darkened room with only a bit of candle light. The guards shoved at Merlin, who stumbled forward and went sprawling across the stone floor.

“Sorry, Merlin,” Lancelot said, before closing the door behind him and shutting Merlin into near darkness. It was only after the retreating footsteps faded that Merlin could finally concentrate on the room he was in.

And who was there with him.

“Hello, Merlin. So wonderful to see you again.” Morgana’s voice cut through the darkness as she emerged from the shadows, holding a candle next to her face. Her smile was vicious and her eyes glowed gold and Merlin was sent careening off of the floor and thudding into a far wall.

"Let's talk, shall we?"

 


	8. Once Upon a Camelot Curse - Chapter Eight

Gwaine lifted his head at the sound of shouting and gravel crunching underneath heavy boots. He paused, nearly ready to slip through the gate to get to the tomato throwing game. Shouting was common in the faire. Everyone yelled. He yelled. Game runners yelled. Wenches and knights yelled at each other. Taunts. Flirting. It was loud there.

But this was different.

He frowned as he tried to search the grounds from his rather unfortunate vantage point, not being able to see much from the stocks. But there was nothing… until he saw Lancelot. The man was generally an okay kind of guy, despite being Morgana’s lap dog. He didn’t harass his fellow actors as some of the knights in power did. But as Gwaine recognized Lancelot, he began walking towards the stables, finally catching sight of Merlin, Gwen and Arthur as well. It looked rather heated, and Lancelot wasn’t alone.

It suddenly didn’t look good when Merlin was snatched from the barn, either. Gwaine’s blood ran cold at the sight, not remembering any of this being in scripts. Merlin was dragged away, much to Gwaine’s surprise. They attracted the attention of the Normals and the crowds began chatting excitedly to one another about the event, at how realistic it all was and whatnot. Gwaine’s stomach twisted and he rushed from his post.

There was no way that was scripted.

Unfortunately, by the time he pushed past tourists and showed up where Merlin had been dragged away, his friend was gone. Breathing heavy, Gwaine spun and focused on Gwen, who looked absolutely stunned at what had happened.

“Gwen, what… Was that scripted?” The woman only shook her head and looked at Arthur, who appeared just as lost as Gwaine felt. It wasn’t scripted, and by the genuine look on Gwen and Arthur’s faces, it surely hadn’t been talked about beforehand.

What was Morgana playing at?

It was Arthur who finally spoke. “He said something about… magic… or something… I don’t know what’s wrong with him, Gwaine. Maybe after he hit his head…”

Magic.

Gwaine frowned at the word as Arthur tried to rationalize it. There had been that odd tripping incident in the pub yesterday, but Merlin hadn’t been near the bloke. There was no way it had been nothing but a coincidence.

Gwen’s voice was quiet when she finally broke her silence. “He said something about a curse…” It was almost as if she didn’t believe her own words, and the slightly wry smile on her face told Gwaine that was exactly what was going on. Neither one of them believed what Merlin had been shouting about. “There was something about us being king and queen… about us needing to be together…” She gestured at Arthur and herself and a small laugh followed her sentence.

“Merlin’s not one to generally joke about that kind of thing, Gwen…” Gwaine trailed off looking at Arthur. He knew the look on his face was just as disbelieving as either of their expressions, but Gwaine couldn’t shake the idea that Merlin wasn’t an idiot or delusional.

“He said we have to be together.” Arthur’s voice grew a bit steadier, a bit cockier, like the Arthur Gwaine knew. Arthur shrugged. “So if you’re supposed to be my queen…” He didn’t hesitate as he grabbed Gwen and kissed her.

It was as if someone had slammed a book into Gwaine’s skull the moment he saw their lips meet. Flashes of light and images flipped through his brain. Riding a horse, dressed in knightly gear, fighting with swords. He was a knight and his king and queen were…

And just like that it was over and Gwen was stumbling back, away from Arthur as she shoved him from her. The look of disgust on her face was there, but it faded and was soon replaced with something else… the same expression of disbelief and wonderment that Arthur and Gwaine had. Her hand had flown to her mouth, but instead of protecting it, her fingertips hovered over her lips, shock filling her eyes.

“Did you… was that…” Arthur stuttered, instantly losing the cool that he had conjured only seconds earlier. He looked from Gwen to Gwaine and back. Gwen nodded slowly after a moment, as did Gwaine.

“We have to get to the gate.” Gwen stated, taking Arthur’s hand and dragging him out from the stable.

“I’m going to get Merlin,” Gwaine replied and received a silent nod as the group dispersed in separate directions. What would be the odds in something like that happening to all three of them? And the visions seemed far too real to mean anything more than what Merlin had been screaming about.

What was going on?

 


	9. Once Upon a Camelot Curse - Chapter Nine

The impact of hitting the wall pushed all of the air out of Merlin’s lungs. He wheezed as he slid to the floor, crumpled on the cold stone. His fingers scratched at the grout and grime in between the stones, trying to grasp some sort of steady ground as his head swam. The click of Morgana’s heels echoed in the room as he watched her candlelight move away from him and begin to spread. Morgana was lighting candles throughout the room, allowing him to see more and more of the room.

A large wooden table was set up across the room from where she had thrown him. Glass jars were littered across it and he had a flash of déjà vu at the sight. Right. Gaius. Potions and…

Magic.

A cauldron squatted in the far corner and Merlin watched as Morgana lit a fire beneath the large piece of equipment. He couldn’t see anything in it, but as it began to heat, there was evidence of something inside.

“M..Morgana…” Merlin stuttered, wanting to be brave but failing quite miserably in the face of Morgana. She set her candle down on the work bench and turned, looming above him as she approached.

She smiled a liquid grin like a cat finally finding the mouse it had been stalking all afternoon.

“I saw you last night, Merlin,” Morgana purred. She crouched down next to him, tilting her head as if she were talking to a child. “At my tent.”

Merlin’s heart raced, despite already knowing that she had seen him. It had been dark, but not that dark, especially not around her tent. He remembered what had happened last night, and it had been the first night that he remembered, even vaguely and that was disturbing. But Merlin shook his head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, his voice shaking. Slowly, Merlin slid his elbows beneath him, moving to rise from the floor. Morgana reached out and pushed him back down to the ground.

“Don’t lie, Merlin. I hate liars,” she scolded, her eyes flashing a poisonous green. Her nails pressed into his muscles as she poked at him. “If you weren’t at my tent, then where were you all night? No one has seen you since you left the medical tent yesterday.”

Merlin dropped the eye contact he held with Morgana, not sure how to answer. It meant she hadn’t talked to Gwaine, which meant he was safe for now. But that didn’t mean anything. If Morgana thought that Merlin was breaking whatever spell she had put on them, then everyone was in trouble.

“I… I…” he stuttered, brain blank for an answer.

“That’s what I thought,” Morgana spat, rising from her crouch and moving back towards her supply table. Her heels clicked on the stone. Merlin slowly sat up, leaning against the wall he had been thrown into earlier. “I know that you heard me last night, Merlin. I’m not an idiot.” The words were venomous coming from Morgana, even though she didn’t even bother looking at Merlin while she spoke.

It didn’t stop his blood from running cold, however.

“I don’t know what you’re--”

“Don’t lie to me!” She screamed, whirling on the spot and facing him. Her eyes flashed gold and he was slammed into the wall once more.

Pain ricocheted up his spine, forcing a groan out from between Merlin’s lips. Morgana had magic. If his visions from earlier hadn’t already confirmed what was going on, this incident did. Morgana had magic. Which meant Merlin did as well. But Morgana didn’t seem to know that.

Was it possible that he had an upper hand?

“You heard more than you were supposed to,” Morgana hissed, turning back to her worktable. Her pale fingers flashed over the bottles and jars scattered across the surface of the table. “But that doesn’t mean much, because even if you know everything, I can easily kill you and no one would know the difference come tomorrow morning!” The last part was gleeful. She was happy about being able to kill him.

This was far too real.

“How do you know that they won’t remember? How do you know whatever it is that you did to Camelot isn’t crumbling around you?” Merlin couldn’t help the words coming from his mouth, but only regretted them a little bit. Making Morgana talk would stall her enough that hopefully Gwen and Arthur would follow his instructions to try and leave the faire grounds. He couldn’t allow her to complete whatever potion she was planning on making. Even if it was a poison to shut him up and keep all of them stuck in the foreign world she had brought them to, or if it was something worse, Merlin had to keep her from finishing it.

“When they remember, they’re going to riot. They’ll come for you, regardless of what you do to me.”

Merlin wished he felt as brave as his words sounded.

Morgana laughed, her shoulders shaking as the sound echoed in the stone room. She barely paused as she measured out ingredients from the bottles. Merlin feared that she was ignoring him, until she finally spoke.

 

“None of it matters, Merlin,” she said, after a moment of glass clinking against a stone bowl. “None of it matters, because even if they do remember, I’ll be gone and ruling Camelot before they can even get to me.”

A glint of light caught Merlin’s eye as Morgana turned. His breath hitched in his throat as he saw a sliver of metal in her hand. She began to move away from the table, brandishing her weapon.

A knife in her hand.

 


	10. Once Upon a Camelot Curse - Chapter Ten

It was the heat making him hallucinate.

It had to be.

At least, that was what Gwaine was repeating to himself. Yet, he had sprinted away from the stables, separating himself from Gwen and Arthur. Yet, he was still searching the mingling crowds for any sight of Merlin or one of Morgana’s knights. None of them knew what they were doing, surely, and they all thought it was an act, he was guessing.

Wasn’t it? Wasn’t it all an act that they were living out?

But he couldn’t help feeling that those images in his head were the real world. They felt far too familiar and too much like… well, like home. Sparring with Percy and fighting alongside Arthur. It all felt a little foreign to Gwaine, who enjoyed being the guy the tourists threw tomatoes at and announcing the jousting tournaments. The closest he got to being a knight around the faire was introducing them to the crowds before they beat one another up with lances. And that was fine with Gwaine.

Protecting Merlin just felt like a natural thing, though. It was something that he did in this world and any other world, apparently.

So he slipped through the crowds, not sure what he was looking for other than the deep green cloaks of Morgana’s men.

A brilliant flash of blonde hair caught his attention and Gwaine immediately turned to follow the beacon. Juliana. Morgana’s right hand… whatever she was. The girl was always at Morgana’s side, along with Lancelot, so surely she knew what was going on, right? Although, Juliana always seemed a bit bubble headed, especially compared to someone like Morgana. But even the most vague of people picked up on the secrets of their companions.

“Juliana!” Gwaine shouted, gaining her attention as she turned to see who was shouting her name. Instantly, he saw her blush at the sight of him. Many of the girls at the faire seemed to enjoy Gwaine’s company, just as much as he enjoyed theirs. Juliana was always one at the forefront of the group in particular.

“Gwaine! Shouldn’t you be at the stocks?” Her voice was pretty and petite, and Juliana had always been someone Gwaine had wanted to have drinks with, perhaps even do more with while they were flouncing about the faire. But now he had to ignore those pretty blue eyes.

He couldn’t confront her immediately, of course. Brute force, despite something he desperately wanted to use right now, wouldn’t get him anywhere with Juliana. Soft charm, however…

He waved a hand through the air, dismissing her concern about his job and what he was supposed to be doing at that moment. “I got someone to cover me today. Didn’t really feel like combing tomato out of my hair this morning.” He smiled, putting on all the charm he could. It seemed to work as she giggled and blushed even more. Gwaine felt bad, using his powers for evil, but it was the only way to figure out where Merlin was. “Listen, I was supposed to meet Merlin--”

The blank look on Juliana’s face when he mentioned Merlin made him want to groan. Of course, Merlin was practically invisible compared to someone like Arthur or even Gwaine.

“The young bloke who runs the game booths,” he clarified and Juliana’s eyes lit up as she nodded, a young student finally getting an answer right. Gwaine smiled, hoping that it would praise her enough to get some answers. “But I can’t find him anywhere. Would you happen to know where he’s gone off to?”

It didn’t matter that Juliana barely knew Merlin. He watched her face for any tell tale sign of even knowing a bit of information. But there was nothing there. No uneasy look on her face, any sort of inclination that she felt guilty for something, or anxious about it.

Just a smile as she shook her head.

“No, sorry, Gwaine. I’ve been running errands for Morgana all morning. Picking up some strange ingredients from around the faire for her.” Gwaine frowned as Juliana shrugged, her fingers going to the edges of her sleeves, picking at the lace there.

Ingredients… Morgana was behind this, obviously, which meant that Merlin was with her. So he switched gears.

“Yet your arms are empty, dear Juliana. Where are you taking these ingredients?” He dropped his voice to a low whisper, hoping to enchant her. But Juliana merely blinked at him. Gwaine wasn’t sure if she was suspicious of the subject change and how interested he was in her errands compared to the location of his friend, but Gwaine didn’t particularly care. Neither, apparently, did Juliana.

“Oh, I just gave some to Lancelot. That’s what I was supposed to do.” She tilted her head behind Gwaine. He turned.

And that’s when he saw Lancelot.

Most of Morgana’s men were easily shuffled through, nobody particularly important or noteworthy, even in the pretend world that they worked in. Supposedly pretend world, anyway, with what Gwaine had been going through in the past few minutes. No one stuck out, even in Morgana’s court, except for Lancelot and Juliana, a girl he knew had a crush on him forever.

Come on, who wouldn’t have a crush on Gwaine?

“Thanks, Juliana!” Gwaine cried, bolting from the girl and slipping through the crowds to get to the retreating form of the head knight. Lancelot was important. Another confidant, if Gwaine was correct. “Lancelot!” He shouted over the din of chatting Normals, getting the knight’s attention.

Lancelot turned, facing Gwaine with arms filled with glass jars. The knight frowned at the sight of Gwaine and moved to keep walking in his original direction. Gwaine caught up in a few long strides and clapped down a hand on Lancelot’s shoulder.

“Lancelot, dear friend,” Gwain greeted, although they were nothing of the sort, at least not in this world, especially if Lancelot was dealing with Morgana. “Could you tell me where Merlin is?”

The frown deepened as Lancelot tried to keep walking. “Don’t know. Haven’t seen him, Gwaine. Don’t you have a job to be doing somewhere else? Like getting pelted with tomatoes or something?”

The answer was hostile, far too defensive for Gwaine’s liking. He knew his charm wouldn’t work on Lancelot like it had on Juliana, but he had hoped it wouldn’t turn into something a bit more heated. He sighed and his grip tightened, fingers curling into Lancelot’s cloak. The knight turned his head in surprise at the reaction, but didn’t have time to react to more than that as Gwaine dragged him off of the main road and in between two stalls, disappearing into shadow and away from the attention of tourists.

“Oi! Get your hands off of me!” Lancelot shouted, but Gwaine was not having any of it. His patience was wearing thin. His fingers gripped Lancelot, both hands now, and he shoved the man into one of the surrounding walls, hopefully knocking any air and protesting words from his chest. The glass jars rattled against one another, threating to fall and break.

“No. And you listen to me, Lancelot,” Gwaine snarled. Panic was beginning to bubble up in his chest and he had to ignore it, or convert it into something vicious in order to get what he wanted right now. All of this was far too much of a coincidence not to be real and he was going to roll with it. “You tell me where Merlin is, right now, and I won’t have to hurt you, understand?”

It must have been something in his face, or in his voice, but Lancelot nodded after a silent beat. Gwaine didn’t want to hurt the guy, that wasn’t his intention. Lancelot didn’t know better and surely was under some sort of influence by Morgana. But Merlin was the more important target right now.

“I took him to Morgana. It’s just a joke, a scripted stunt to rile up the tourists, you know? He’ll end up in the stocks later.” But Lancelot didn’t seem too sure about his answer and let his eyes fall down to the glass jars in his arms. “I think, anyway.”

“Where are they, Lancelot?” Gwaine didn’t like that Lancelot assumed Merlin was all right and it was all scripted. The man would surely believe anything that Morgana had said to him, reassuring him that Merlin would be fine and it was all play-acting.

“Dungeon.” Lancelot replied simply.

Gwaine’s fingers unknotted from Lancelot’s cloak, letting the man go. “Do not warn her, you understand me, Lancelot?”

The knight nodded in return, keeping silent.

“Good.” Gwaine turned on his heel and took off toward the castle that housed the dungeon exhibit, hoping that he wasn’t too late for whatever Morgana was planning on doing to Merlin or anyone else for that matter.

 


	11. Once Upon a Camelot Curse - Chapter Eleven

“This is crazy, right?” Arthur questioned, looking at Gwen as they jogged through the crowds of guests who were blissfully ignorant of what was going on behind the scenes of the faire. This wasn’t really happening. Arthur had felt something extraordinary when he had kissed Gwen, but that didn’t mean anything, did it?

_Fighting alongside the men who helped him joust each day. Standing in front of an entire court of people, a crown upon his head and his hand held by Gwen, large smiles on their lips. Sprinting through a thick forest, running from something that surely wanted to kill him. Speaking with a man who was a stranger, but Arthur knew to be his father._

_Watching his father die._

_Watching Gwen as she was torn away from him more than once. Banished. Kidnapped. Bringing her home and kissing her deeper and with more feeling than he had ever experienced before._

It was those last few images that had allowed Arthur to be dragged away from Gwaine. He sprinted on his own after a moment or two, realizing that his question was dumb.

“No. It’s not. You saw what I saw, right? You felt that?” Arthur caught Gwen’s glance as they dodged a family taking pictures of one of the court jesters. She looked and sounded worried that this was one big hoax, just something to rile up the actors and get them reenergized after a long summer. But it wasn’t just that.

Arthur nodded.

“I felt it too.”

“Good. Then we’re in agreement that we’re going to try this.” Gwen’s voice was strong, commanding, and Arthur wondered why they had never spoken to one another before. Granted, he spent most of his time in the stables, performing for the crowds and and only ever ventured to the side with the games when he was showing off for his adoring fans. He never really paid attention to those that ran the booths, merely what products and services they provided so he could impress his fans.

He never really noticed Gwen until now.

“What do you think is happening?” He asked, not sure if he wanted an answer.

Gwen shrugged. “I know Merlin isn’t playing around. How would he have gotten us to see what we’ve seen? Or…”

Arthur risked a glance in her direction as she trailed off. “Or… felt what we felt?”

She looked shocked at the revelation, but nodded after a moment. Relief filled Arthur. After she had broken away from the kiss, there had been a lingering feeling there that had been coupled with the visions in Arthur’s head. It was a feeling of home, of belonging, of…

Well, of love.

“There are the gates,” Gwen broke the silence that fell, a finger pointing ahead. There weren’t many people around the exit of the grounds, considering the faire had recently opened and everyone was filing through the entrances where they could be seen taking tickets. But as Arthur looked closer, he saw a slight shimmer of blue light every time a tourist moved through the gates.

“Gwen… you see that, right?”

“It wasn’t always there. Not that I had seen before,” she replied, already answering Arthur’s question.

They slowed down to a quick walk, approaching the wall. Arthur glanced around, seeing a few men in green cloaks, but no one seemed to want to stop them from getting close to the gates.

“Then I guess that’s what we have to try and get through, right?” He asked, looking to Gwen. He wanted to tell himself that this was ridiculous. This was dumb and Merlin was playing a stupid game on them. But the blue shimmer was real and he knew that Merlin wasn’t that good of an actor to fool them all into believing this charade if it were a trick.

“I guess so,” she responded, her voice strong and steady. Arthur had to give her credit. There was strength inside her that he suddenly found himself drawn to. How could he not have noticed her before this morning?

He held out a hand, not sure what he was doing exactly. But Gwen didn’t hesitate as she slipped her warm fingers between his. Arthur’s stomach flipped at the physical contact. They couldn’t distract one another right now, but it was difficult not to focus on that fluttering in the back of his head. This was all so familiar, but it still felt like they were complete strangers. Or maybe strangers that had met once or twice before but didn’t know anything about one another.

“Time to see if Merlin was right,” he said. It was Gwen who initiated the charge and they both set off at a sprint, hands nearly welded together as they darted towards the unguarded gate.

 


	12. Once Upon a Camelot Curse - Chapter Twelve

Gwaine hated the dungeons.

There was no reason to be down there except to learn about the perverse way people were tortured back in the day of medieval life. It was far too dank and dark for Gwaine to enjoy any sort of time down there. He had only gone down there once or twice, much to the urging of some of his more attractive fans. It had been pleads and taunts of “Oh Gwaine, I’m too scared to go alone! Come with us!” that had gotten him down there.

Come on. A scared lass? It was the perfect excuse to cuddle close.

But Gwaine much preferred being outside. If he did seclude himself inside, it was always some place like a dark pub or anywhere with liquor to keep him satisfied and entertained.

The dungeon didn’t sell alcohol, much to Gwaine’s dismay.

They were creepy. And as Gwaine approached the castle that housed the dungeons, he suddenly second guessed his whole quest. The idea that Merlin was playing a joke on them was tempting to believe in, although Gwaine knew it was a desperate attempt from his mind to try and stay out of the dungeons. But he knew, deep down, that this was all far too real for Merlin to make up. There were far too many things that were falling into place and clicking like pieces of a puzzle for Gwaine to ignore them and head back to his favorite pub.

He had to continue, though.

Morgana’s men were stationed at the entrance of the castle and Gwaine’s stomach gave a lurch. He wasn’t sure how much Morgana knew of Merlin and his plan, but he was pretty sure that no one was going to be allowed through without some sort of really good reason. Gwaine scanned the area, hoping for some sort of good distraction for the guards, and his gaze landed on the perfect plan.

Hopefully.

“Ladies!” Gwaine cried out, slipping up behind two regally dressed wenches. The girls giggled at him as his arms encircled their waists and he pulled them close. He gave them a wry smile. “How would you like to join me in the dungeon? It’s surely cooler than being out here in the hot sun!”

One of the girls returned the smile and shook her head. “The dungeon costs money, my dear sir, and we have none to spare on dungeons!” Her companion giggled and nodded, golden curls bouncing as she did so.

Gwaine wanted to groan, but held it back. Instead, his smile widened. “Well, then, it’s a good thing I came along! When you are with me, the dungeon is free! What do you think?” He gave them both a wink and began tugging them towards the dungeon entrance, not giving them much of a choice. But their chorus of titters and blushing was the only answer he needed. “Wonderful!”

As they approached the entrance, the guards stood up a bit straighter, their spears crossing to block the archway. Both men were slightly familiar to Gwaine, although only by face and not name, unfortunately. He didn’t hang around with Morgana’s men as much as he knew he probably should have. In retrospect, it would have been a good idea to butter up and become pals with the men who served the woman in charge.

Ah well. In another life.

“No one passes, tomato boy,” one of the guards spoke through his helmet as Gwaine and the girls approached.

“Oh, come now, mate.” Gwaine couldn’t flirt with them, but couldn’t threaten them like he did Lancelot either. Eventually Lancelot was going to come around and alert his friends to Gwaine’s antics, surely, and Gwaine had to act fast. He gave the girls a squeeze, eliciting a mirroring set of excited cries that bubbled into giggles. “I just want to show the girls some of the exhibits. We won’t be too long, I promise.” Unfortunately, neither guard seemed phase by one man’s need to bed pretty wenches and Gwaine wasn’t sure what else he could do. “For me, lads? I’m sure these pretty girls have equally pretty friends you could meet once you get done guarding the queen, right ladies?”

“Ooh! You guard the queen?” The one with blonde curls cooed, her face lighting up at the idea of being with a man who had such power. Gwaine caught sight of one of the guards flushing red. “That’s so fascinating!”

Much to Gwaine’s surprise, the girls detached themselves from his side and immediately latched onto the guards, destroying any sort of fierce façade that the men had. The girls murmured in the guards’ ears and Gwaine took that moment to slip underneath the spears and dart into the darkened entryway of the dungeons.

That was easier than he could have ever thought it to be.

Although he felt a bit hurt that two members of the Queen’s guard trumped his master of ceremonies status. But Gwaine was willing to let that slide in order to get through the door.

The air grew colder as Gwaine descended down the stone stairs into the dungeon below the castle. Usually, voices echoed off of the walls, but Gwaine heard nothing but his own footsteps. The guards must have ushered everyone out of the castle, claiming there to be some sort of unsafe emergency going on downstairs. It wasn’t uncommon for the faire to use guards as medieval caution tape in order to keep tourists out of certain parts of the faire grounds.

And that obviously meant that Gwaine was on the right path.

The electric torches placed throughout the trek down into the dungeons gave off a dull, yellow light, and Gwaine managed to get down to the bottom step without slipping and breaking his neck. Now the problem was finding where Merlin was. First instinct was to step towards the torture chamber exhibits. If Morgana wanted Merlin captured, she probably wanted him restrained as well, and what better way to do that than to use some of the tools that were down in the dungeons?

Luckily for Gwaine, the absence of tourists allowed the only voices downstairs to travel and echo better than they would have before. The sounds bounced off of the walls and drew Gwaine away from the exhibits and towards a hallway he hadn’t noticed the last time he was down here. Granted, the last time he had been down here, he had been a bit distracted by his female companion. A female voice was louder than the other and Gwaine instantly recognized it from their time spent acting out the dramatic scenes during the jousting tournament.

Morgana.

He couldn’t quite hear what was being said, but the tone was enough for him to bolt down the hallway. Doors lined the corridor and all he had to do was follow the volume of the voice getting louder and louder. It didn’t take long to find the door that shielded Morgana. It was interesting that she didn’t have any of her other guards down here to protect her, but that meant she was doing something that she didn’t want anyone to know about.

“Merlin!” He cried out, not caring that he was giving away any sort of surprise. Hopefully it would catch Morgana off guard. Gwaine came to a stop at the door and paused. He was unarmed. No back up. No one even knew he was down here except Lancelot, and Gwaine couldn’t imagine that the bloke was going to help him. Morgana could easily be doing something dangerous.

He was screwed.

However, Gwaine didn’t have much time to rethink his plan or even go back to the exhibits to try and pry a weapon off of the wall when a scream came from behind the wooden door.

“Merlin!” He shouted, charging down the door and connecting with a shoulder, forcing the warped wood to buckle and he stumbled into the room.

 


	13. Once Upon a Camelot Curse - Chapter Thirteen

He was a cockroach, skittering around her bedchambers and forcing her to watch every step she took. He was that itch in the corner of her back that she could not reach. He was that one spot of sun that insisted on being in her eyes when the rest of the world was shaded.

He would die.

Morgana was tired of Merlin consistently interrupting her plans. He had come from nowhere and had somehow weaseled his way into Arthur’s good graces, despite not being anything more than a servant. Yet he still stood at Arthur’s side, sat at Arthur’s table and managed to become someone Arthur listened to. Without Merlin, Arthur would have surely perished ages ago.

And Morgana was going to finally make sure that came true. Without Merlin, Arthur would go back to being a stupid knight who just loved to joust and she would have no problem getting back to Camelot, leaving the rest of them to live in this insane pseudo-reality.

He was huddled on the far side of the stone room that she had set up as her own personal ingredients storeroom. After realizing she had magic, it was easy enough to get ingredients that seemed normal to anyone else. The apothecary didn’t have many of the things that someone in Camelot would have to offer, but there were substitutions in this world that Morgana knew would work. Sending Lancelot from booth to booth was easy enough, considering the man was wrapped around her finger. He didn’t question, and neither did Juliana as Morgana sent them to run her errands and collect the equipment needed.

It would be a shame to leave them here.

But Morgana knew she couldn’t bring them with her. The spell, while transporting all of Camelot to this world, was designed with Morgana in mind. She wasn’t sure if it was going to even work, but it would have to. If it didn’t happen the first time, she would have plenty of time to try and try again.

Especially once Merlin was gone.

“I will rule Camelot without you there, or Arthur or Guinevere or anybody else to ruin my plans,” Morgana said, not caring that she was spilling her plans to Merlin. The knife in her hand would make sure that he never spoke a word after this conversation was over anyway.

“But… you banished everyone here. There’s no one left to rule!” Merlin shouted and Morgana could only roll her eyes at his dramatic response. She gave an indifferent shrug.

“Then I shall have the entire castle to myself. Do you think I care? As long as you, Arthur and his cohorts are out of my life, the entire kingdom could be empty and I would be the happiest woman in the world.” Morgana didn’t need other people to be happy. She didn’t even need to rule those that lived in Camelot.

She just needed to be home.

 


	14. Once Upon a Camelot Curse - Chapter Fourteen

“We’re going to look pretty stupid when we end up running right through those gates and into the parking lot!” Arthur shouted to Gwen, but she didn’t seem concerned as the gate neared. He tightened his grip on her hand and felt a little reassured at the returned pressure of her grasp.

“Hey! You two!” Arthur risked a glance over his shoulder and spotted a group of Morgana’s knights sprinting towards them. “Stop! Orders of the queen!”

“Keep running, Arthur!” Gwen replied, tugging him forward and getting him to pay attention to where they were going.

Tourists scattered in either direction, yearning to get out of their way as they fled down their path, the gates getting closer and closer. Arthur could hear the pounding of footsteps as the knights gained on them, but that only made him run faster. His feet slid in the gravel, but he pushed on, not sure the last time he had run like this and why he was doing it. There was that voice in his head saying this was silly. But whenever it spoke, the vision of Gwen in a crown came back into his brain and he pushed his body further.

Together, they dodged the last of the lingering visitors. The gates loomed above them. They tightened their grips on one another, squeezing the feeling from their fingers as they slammed into the shimmering barrier.

It felt like pure energy ripping through Arthur as he and Gwen were shot backwards from the wall. They flew through the air and landed on the dirt feet away from faire exit. Tourists scattered, shouting in panic and for emergency medical assistance. But it was all muffled to Arthur as his head swam from the shock. Darkness threatened to spread across his vision, coupled with more flashes from this other life he didn’t know.

They were a jumble, events involving Merlin, Gwaine, Lancelot, Percy, Elyan and Leon. Gaius, the man Arthur only knew as the old man who ran the game booths. Devoted friends and family.

And Gwen.

His Gwen.

Arthur’s eyes flashed open as he coughed and wheezed, hoping to get the air back into his lungs. He sat up, hand still clenched and intertwined with Gwen’s own. She was still recovering as well and after a moment they looked at one another, her eyes just as wide as his had to have been.

He rolled over and pressed his lips against hers, knowing it was right and true.

And then the world around them exploded in bright light.

 


	15. Once Upon a Camelot Curse - Chapter Fifteen

“Merlin!”

The addition of another voice made Morgana’s stomach tense. Gwaine. Anyone would know that idiot’s voice by now. It had been a shame that he had turned into the court jester and master of ceremonies in this world. She had quite enjoyed him being her minion in Camelot, fighting for his life every time she snapped her fingers. Although, he still entertained her in this life.

It would be a shame to leave him behind as well.

“Your friend is here… how did you do that, Merlin? How did you find out about all of this?” Morgana couldn’t help herself as she questioned him, the knife brandished in his direction. She wanted desperately to know how they had figured everything out yet again. Her magic had returned and that meant everything to her. It meant she could go back to Camelot and leave them all behind. It was supposed to also mean that she could do it all in secret, have time to plan and postulate and make sure that it all went well and correctly.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

Merlin blinked at her, and for a moment, Morgana was convinced that he didn’t look scared. That defiance in him that made her stomach turn was plain on his face. Slowly, he rose from the floor, but didn’t attempt to approach her yet. Maybe it was the fact that his friend was so close that gave him courage to stand up to her. Arthur was always reckless when his friends were around. It seemed that trait had worn off on Merlin as well.  
“I don’t know. What I do know is that I’m going to make sure we all get back. Arthur. Gwen. Gaius. All of us. We’ll get back to Camelot with or without you. Even if you manage to make it back alone, don’t get comfortable in that castle, Morgana.” Merlin’s eyes flashed gold and the knife flew from Morgana’s hand, landing in the corner near the cauldron.

Her eyes went wide and her heart thudded in her chest. His magic. Of course. If hers was present, so was his. It only made sense and was the reason he knew exactly what was going on in this universe.

“No!” She screeched, turning on her heel and sprinting towards the knife. Merlin’s warm body collided with her own and they both went down, bouncing off of the stone floor. Pain rocketed up and down her body, but she continued, crawling towards the knife as she tried to kick Merlin off of her. Her foot connected with his chin, sending him sprawling on his back. Pale fingers curled around the knife and she scrambled to her knees and knelt over the cauldron that was now bubbling and steaming. The door flew open to reveal Gwaine, who was pale and winded as he busted through the entryway.

Her chest heaved with heavy breaths as she held the knife up to her arm.

“Goodbye, Merlin,” she spoke, focusing on her foe and praying this would work. If it didn’t, at least maybe it would blow them all up and this could be over with forever.

“Morgana, no!” Merlin cried, scrambling to his knees.

“ _Áscúfan mín gefýnd ferhþ_!” She drew the knife across her pale arm and let the warm drops of blood fall into the cauldron.

And just like before, all was white, enveloping those in the room and beyond.

 

Morgana stood over the now empty cauldron, knife held to her forearm. Green eyes flicked to observe her surroundings and her heart slowed. She was back in the abandoned keep where she had started this entire spell in the first place. The knife clattered on the floor as she dropped it and lurched out of the room.

It seemed to take forever, but soon she was standing over the basin of water, muttering the spell to be able to observe the person of her choice. It was the same group of people that she had been spying on for what seemed like years. The same group of people that had sent her to try the spell in the first place.

The water swirled in the basin, blurry figures coming into focus. Morgana’s lip curled as the same happy faces appeared. Arthur and his subjects… Arthur and his queen. All celebrating the birth of a great king, as if nothing had happened. As if she hadn’t sent them to a world that was already starting to fade from her memory.

Morgana gripped the basin and toppled it over with a cry that echoed in the empty keep. Hot tears bubbled up in her eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks as she sank down onto her knees, face cradled in her hands. Water seeped into the fabric of her dress, but Morgana didn’t care.

She had been so close.

Rage replaced the pity she had for herself as she climbed to her feet and stormed back into the storeroom. Her supplies were depleted, but that didn’t matter. She was leaving this place. Her fingers curled around the spell book she had found and she hefted it off of the stand it had been living on.

With a final look around the room, she swept out, intent on finding another place to hold up and try again.

Perhaps there was another spell in this book that would work.


End file.
